


a strange disease like me

by n7punk



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: (Ish) - Freeform, Adora became a werewolf and Catra doesn't Know, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Collar play, Exorcists are dicks and extortionists in this AU, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Necromancy, Praise Kink as a Plot Point, Puppy Play, Smut, Solving magical mayhem, underground fighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:29:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 92,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28479213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/n7punk/pseuds/n7punk
Summary: Catra is doing her best as a single parent to some kind of supernatural cat no one even recognizes. She loves Melog, and they help to fill the void in her heart after someone just up and left her, but when Melog starts bringing a far too intelligent wolf home declaring they made a friend, Catra is about at the end of her rope.“Get off. No, don’t fucking boof at me, asshole. You’re soaking and I don’t want my couch smelling like dog period, much less wet golden idiot.”(Catra/Werewolf Adora in supernatural Etheria AU)
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 1097
Kudos: 2166
Collections: Catradora AUs by n7punk





	1. 1. a wolf at the door

**Author's Note:**

> Look, I’m done apologizing for the number of catradora AUs I make. They’re not stopping any time soon. This is a supernatural AU set in a slightly more modernized Etheria. Catra is still a magicat, exactly like in the show, although magicats (and all hybrids) have supernatural origins.

Catra stares at Melog. Or rather, she stares at the section of air in the produce section where she believes Melog is standing. Their general vibe is coming from that area, anyway. She narrows her eyes at the empty air and thinks _stop it_ as loudly as she can. Melog is – sniffing, maybe? The psychic supernatural cat equivalent of sniffing anyway – some woman who is _exceptionally_ picky about her apples, apparently. Catra will give her that all of them are bruised, but seriously, _pick one_.

Melog thinks she is nice. They haven’t even seen her face. From here, all Catra can make out is broad shoulders through her hooded track jacket and frankly _criminal_ thighs. It should be illegal to have thighs like that and wear jogging shorts. She could cause a traffic accident. Not to mention how toned her ass is.

Okay, Melog has _taste_ at least, but they also are not even supposed to _be_ here. Catra glances around, finds no one paying attention to her, and gives a low hiss in Melog’s direction. She can feel Melog wilting, but her cloaked cat returns to her. Her cart rattles slightly as they cross back to the deli and hop inside the child seat. At least they shrunk down to _normal_ cat size instead of the cougar they usually prowl around as. Light on their feet or not, Catra doubts they would have an easy time navigating the aisles of the grocery store like that. She has enough trouble with her shopping cart, and other people can _see_ it.

Melog could always uncloak, but they tend to stay hidden when they follow Catra around in town, and she really is not sure if they are allowed in here. They certainly are not a _pet_ , but if a manager stopped them, Catra couldn’t even give them an answer as to what Melog is, so she thinks they would get kicked out either way. “They just showed up at my backdoor one day” and “Google gives me nothing” probably is not going to result in peaceful acceptance.

Melog is highly satisfied with the annoyance they have caused her. Despite not being a pet, they are a _cat_. Determined to cause trouble, but fiercely protective when anyone _else_ causes trouble for her. Catra would know – magicats are the same damn way. She still would appreciate if they would _behave_. Fucking subconscious reflection.

Fine, she is single, she has been for a while. _So what_. She would appreciate if her psychic bond wouldn’t go around trying to pick out partners for her. Yes, Catra noticed the girl’s _everything_ even from behind and halfway across the store, but she should be able to quietly lust after jacked strangers without her cat outing her. She turned her back to order from the deli for _five seconds_ and Melog goes off looking for someone with the same build as-

She cuts that thought off before it begins. Adora was built, but she was never as muscled as that girl. The girl probably wasn’t even blonde. Catra couldn’t tell – she had her hoodie up and never turned away from the unsatisfying apples. Adora wasn’t that _picky_ either. Catra doesn’t need to go picking up some high-maintenance chick just because her cat thinks she is _nice_.

Melog has _opinions_ about that, even if they keep them to themself. Catra glares down at the air they are currently occupying, ignoring the tut of _someone is in a bad mood_ by a nearby lizardfolk who is so old she looks like she won’t make it through her next shed. Whatever. Catra has always been proud to be part of the anti-establishment youth, even if she is well into her twenties now. She certainly hasn’t figured out how to be an adult yet.

Melog thinks responsibility is overrated, but that is easy for them to say when they can just _show up_ at someone’s doorstep and trick the home’s resident into forming an emotional bond that then somehow becomes a psychic bond that she couldn’t escape if she wanted to.

 _She doesn’t want to_ , yes, thank you, _asshole_. She glares at the space Melog is settled smugly in as she turns the corner and has to dig her heels into the slick linoleum to avoid colliding with a sparkly pink girl coming barreling down the aisle.

“Shit- sorry! In a hurry,” the girl tells her as she also tries to prevent their collision by flinging herself off to the side and nearly slamming into the shelves. Catra find herself blinking at the- sorceress, maybe? She is so fucking pink and _sparkling_ that Catra would think fae, but she looks human aside from the literal stars in her hair. Catra has to force her fur to lie flat. Fucking _sorceresses_. Although this one at least seems to be a bit of a mess, which puts her a step removed from Shadow Weaver’s calculating plans.

“Just- watch it. Old ladies shop at this store,” Catra grunts, straightening back out her cart and fully prepared to steer around the Sparkles wizard. It would actually be hilarious if Sparkles barreled into one of the crotchety lizardfolk, but Catra also doesn’t want to become a witness to manslaughter if she can help it. She doesn’t have the _time_ for police interviews.

Unfortunately for her, the feigned concern for other patrons causes the other girl to pause and turn to her. Catra bristles again, growling a low warning under her breath that _oddly_ does nothing to deter the woman. Normally that throws humans off, but then again, she is clearly not _just_ human.

“Have you seen a jock blonde in a track jacket? I lost her and she’s not great at social interaction,” Sparkles asks her. Catra snorts, rolling her eyes as she turns away from the woman.

“She’s also not great at picking out produce. Over by the apples last I saw,” she tells her and is instantly greeted with a muttered curse.

“She’s touching everything, isn’t she?” Sparkles asks. Catra just laughs as Sparkles takes off at full-tilt around the corner again. Fucking sorceresses. She bets the blonde was part of some experiment she did. If Catra is lucky, it is just a ritual leaving her dazed or something and not _necromancy_. It would be a shame to have to cross a perfectly good grocery store off her list of options _again_.

\--

Catra gets home from a brutal double shift to find Melog isn’t even _there_. She hates how she sags at the realization. Not even six months, and she is already depending on the asshole. Granted, she is depending on them to provide a good, non-judgmental cuddle, but still. The whole _psychic bond_ thing really made her drop her barriers fast when it came to the mysterious cat. She has been living in a carefully-guarded bubble defended by _spikes_ ever since Adora-

The point is, it took two years for Scorpia to break through that bubble, and another year on top of that for Scorpia to let Entrapta in through the door she made. Catra still hasn’t even _met_ Scorpia’s new girlfriend because she doesn’t want to risk letting anyone else in to hurt her. She has learned what happens when you do that. You end up alone, naked in the bed that you were supposed to _share_.

Catra swallows as she crosses to the glass wall and sliding doors that lead out to her backyard. Melog is just out roaming. They didn’t leave her and they _can’t_. The psychic bond is enough proof of that. She glances into the backyard and notices how _bright_ it is outside. A glance into the sky confirms her suspicions. A full moon. Melog appeared on the full moon – _exactly_ six months ago, she supposes – and though they tend to go wandering, they always go to _commune with nature_ or whatever the fuck when the moon rolls around again.

Her house backs up onto the Whispering Woods. It is well known many strange creatures live inside, especially during the full moon when a lot of the supernatural denizens of Etheria flock there. Catra has fucking heard _chanting_ coming from the trees before. Her neighbourhood is not an unsavoury area or anything, but the Woods deter a lot of people, and that makes rent cheap. So far the only creature Catra has come face-to-face with is Melog, and now they _live_ with her, so she can only guess what else is going on in there.

She went to a vet and even wandered to the library near the edge of the Woods. No one could tell her what Melog is. When she told the vet where she found Melog, they had laughed and told her _good luck_ , and that she might be the first person outside of the supernatural community to have met one of their kind. At least Melog can tell her if they are feeling sick or something, even if they can’t pass _words_ so much as thoughts and feelings.

Catra sighs and turns back to the kitchen. She fixes herself a lonely dinner in her house that didn’t _used_ to feel empty. It used to feel like hers, a spot in this world she had carved out for herself with some less-than-legal underground fighting matches. Whatever. She got the money and it is _hers_ now. If the rest of Melog’s family shows up tomorrow she will make room for them.

(Melog doesn’t have family. They are an orphan, like her. She saw images of trees, running scared, and stumbling on growing paws as they tried to teach themselves how to hunt. It was just hyperbole anyway.)

Catra doesn’t bother with a plate, not when she is by herself and has no desire to do dishes and deal with the splashing water. She eats right out of the skillet and then collapses on her mattress. It is lying directly on the floor in the middle of her master. She never had a bedframe _anyway_ , but now she can justify that it makes it easier for Melog to climb in and join her whenever they come home. She never slept well on her own.

\--

Catra stumbles out of her bedroom when she hears pawing at the backdoor. Melog can damn well let themselves in and out, but maybe she forgot to leave it unlocked. It is way too fucking early for this, the sun hasn’t even risen yet, but she won’t lie that her annoyance is not cut a little by the relief that Melog is home.

Catra steps into her living room and stares at the glass doors onto her back porch. Melog mews happily at her, throwing their head back a little with the sound. Beside them, the biggest fucking dog Catra has ever seen in her life stands stock-still and stares back at her.

Correction – the biggest _wolf_ , because that certainly isn’t a house dog. Catra was _joking_ about Melog’s family turning up. She hisses at the pair, which causes the dog to immediately duck its head, ears dropping and tail tucking between its legs a little, but Melog is entirely undeterred. If she doesn’t open the door for them, then they will do it themselves and let the beast in. Catra narrows her eyes as she approaches the door and slides it open, leaning against the doorframe and crossing her arms as she surveys the two.

Melog tells her they found a friend. The wolf still has its head hung, looking up at her with wide eyes and whimpering softly as its tail wags, slow and hopeful.

“A friend,” she echoes back, narrowing her eyes at Melog. The wolf perks its ears, glancing between the two of them with its kicked puppy expression still firmly in place. Cautiously, the wolf nudges its head forward, as if to nose at her side. Catra growls a warning and the wolf freezes before it can make contact, looking up at her with a pleading expression. No _way_ is she letting a wild creature with teeth that large touch her, Melog’s friend or not. Catra surveys the creature carefully.

Okay, yes, it is fucking huge, a little taller than Melog at the shoulder but not quite as long in the body. Sitting down, its head is at her eye-level. The fur is downright _golden_ , shimmering unnaturally in the moonlight. The wolf has piercing blue eyes – the kind that make her heart pang with bitter memories – and one of its ears is a bit lame, the end flopping as it perks its ears forward and blinks at her slowly, trying to endear trust by offering it first. Despite its radiant coat, its paws are coated with mud from running through the woods – as are Melog’s.

Catra levels Melog with a look. Melog radiates a pleased air as the wolf continues to hunker down a bit as if to reduce its massive frame and give her puppy dog eyes, nudging its nose forward again. Catra _hisses_ this time, and despite it causing the wolf to pause, Melog puffs themself up, proud of what they have done. Catra sighs. _When did she become a parent_.

“I’m happy you made a friend. Your friend is not allowed in the house, and neither are you until you clean your paws. Now go enjoy your playtime so I can _sleep_ ,” Catra tells them, exasperated and a touch grouchy, but _sue her_ , it probably isn’t even five in the morning, and she had to scratch a guy at work trying to get sly with girl’s drinks. She just wanted her cat back, not another monstrosity. _She doesn’t let people in_. This wolf is way too friendly.

The wolf uses her temporary distraction to nuzzle into her hip and Catra jerks back, her claws sliding out as she _snarls_ at the dog. The wolf immediately shies away, whining quietly as it plasters itself down onto the porch and rolls over in submission. Catra finds herself blinking down at _her_ – clearly – as the wolf exposes her belly and whines softly. Catra’s fur at least lies flat again as she shoots Melog an incredulous look. Melog blinks back at her. Catra sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Melog, I’m not dealing with this right now. I don’t care how friendly she is, I need sleep,” Catra tells them. The wolf straight up _whimpers_ from the ground, rolling onto her stomach but making no effort to rise from the ground. Catra has never seen a dog look _worried_ before, but this one is managing it pretty well.

 _She is lonely_ , Catra realizes, with a bit of help from Melog. She glares at her companion, scoffing. So was Melog when they came cautiously creeping into her backyard, finding an absolutely heartbroken girl, who despite having learned how to make one or two friends again will never _trust_ , not after Adora. Watching Adora flee the bed after they had sex for the first and only time, never to return despite having spent the day moving in, was enough to shatter any faith she had in people.

Catra realizes the hole Melog has pulled her down and hisses at them. Melog merely flicks an ear, impassive. A healthy reminder that just because the love of her life broke her heart doesn’t mean she cannot trust _anybody_ – at least that is what Melog thinks. Melog has not seen enough of humanity for themself to learn to greet every stranger with claws and fangs.

The wolf is lonely, alone, the woods and distant voices calling a name she hardly recognizes all she has left. Rarely, she is _human_ -

“A werewolf,” Catra realizes, pulling herself out of the projection Melog has sent her and looking down at where the wolf lays. The wolf perks up immediately, looking up at her with wide eyes and whining hopefully. That explains the _friendliness_ at least. Catra has no idea how cognizant werewolves are while shifted, but she knows they have some recognition. She has seen it in media, but only ever in passing. Despite magicats technically being a part of the supernatural community, she tries to avoid that shit as best she can. She doesn’t want anything to do with it.

And yet it keeps showing up at her door. Catra glares down at the wolf, her resolve hardening.

“Then unlike this asshole,” she gestures at Melog, who just blinks calmly in response, “you know what a double shift at an overcrowded bar might entail, and how I need to _sleep_ now. Have fun, but I’m going back to bed,” she tells them both, pushing off the doorframe.

Melog looks _sad_. So does the wolf, but Catra doesn’t give a shit about her. Catra hesitates, her hand already on the door handle.

“I’m happy you made a friend,” she reiterates, her voice low. Melog perks up a little. Catra knows how fucking _lonely_ they were when they came cautiously edging out of the woods into her backyard. It was that crushing loneliness that led to them wandering away from the only home they had ever known. Now, Catra would kill for this asshole. She turns her gaze on the wolf, narrowing her eyes at the creature.

“You treat my cat well, alright? You hurt them, I’ll cut your tail off and feed it to you,” Catra tells them. The wolf stares at her, wide-eyed, and Catra responds with a smile that is all teeth. “ _Have fun_ ,” she tells them, before finally closing the backdoor and turning away. She doesn’t look back as she trudges across the living room to her bedroom, shutting it firmly behind her. She faceplants onto the mattress, groaning to herself.

Her life has changed so much since Melog came into, and all for the better. She doesn’t _want_ another sort-of-animal hanging around though, especially not one she knows is truly a person beneath it and thus can’t be _trusted_. What if she tries to take Melog away from her? Maybe she shouldn’t have left them alone, but Melog also knows how to handle themself.

Melog will be _fine_ , and so will she if she can just stop worrying and go back to sleep.

\--

When Catra stumbles out of her bed in the morning, it is well-past noon and thus the wolf is _gone_. There will be another full moon tonight, but not the _true_ full moon, so Catra isn’t worried about the dog showing up again for another month. She knows some werewolves shift outside of the full moon, by choice and because of _stress_ or something, but she made herself pretty clear last night.

Melog is back, nosing around the living room with one of their toys, a large ball with a smaller, jingling ball inside. They look up and mew reproachfully at her as she enters the room. Catra hisses in response. She doesn’t need a lecture about _opening up_ or whatever. Melog narrows their eyes and trots over to her, butting her hip with their head. It is the psychic cat equivalent of calling her an asshole. Catra scoffs and makes her way into the kitchen. She needs to get her morning tea going before Scorpia shows up.

Scorpia comes over at least one a week. They used to see each other a couple times a week at fights, but they have been free of that for a year now and mostly see each other at these visits or when Catra chooses to just hang around Scorpia’s shop. Scorpia arrives on time, beaming at her and pulling Catra into a tight hug upon arrival. Catra grumbles through the whole thing while Melog turns a soft grey. Scorpia gushes about missing her as she finally puts Catra down and pets Melog’s head, scratching behind their ears. Catra does her best not to purr from the contentment pouring off her partner.

Catra passes Scorpia a cup of her tea and they settle in on her couch to catch up about their weeks, watching Melog nudge and chase their ball around the living room happily. Catra can’t help but half keep an eye on the woods. She knows the wolf isn’t out there anymore, she just-

Expects her to still be out there. Scorpia catches her looking.

“Seriously, you should go to the local coven leader. If anyone is going to know what Melog is, it is going to be that lady. I hear she is _immortal_ ,” Scorpia tells her, reaching her pincer out for Melog to rub against happily as they trot by with their toy. Catra scowls at her.

“No one knows what they are, and you want me to bring them to the coven leader? She will probably _dissect_ them or something. You know how sorceresses are,” Catra returns, crossing her arms. Scorpia looks an interesting mix of sad and pained despite the puppy eyes she is still throwing to Catra. It doesn’t matter what puppy eyes she sends her way – Catra is immune to dogs. Benefit of being a feline species.

“You know not _all_ sorceresses are like Shadow Weaver. What if Melog, like, needs something to live, and neither of you know it because they grew up alone and you don’t know what they are?” Scorpia proposes, looking down at Melog with actual _concern_ like she thinks this could be a real issue in the near future. Catra exchanges a look with Melog.

“They’re fine. If they get sick or something, we’ll look for help, but you know how insular the supernatural community is. What if she wants to take Melog away _to be with their people_ or something?” Catra points out, reaching out to run her hand along Melog’s head and then brush her fingertips over their mane. Melog ignores their ball, letting it skitter away in favour of nuzzling happily into the attention.

“I’m pretty sure no one can make Melog do something they don’t want to, and they seem pretty dead set on being with you,” Scorpio returns. Catra would point out the amount of times she has ordered a very reluctant Melog to _leave it_ , but she doesn’t feel like it. She shrugs as she pets along her friend.

“We’re fine right now. I don’t see any reason to invite trouble,” Catra settles on, wrapping her arms around the broad shoulders of her companion and tugging them closer. Melog happily climbs onto the couch to cuddle into her lap, echoing a purr in a reverberating vocalization despite the fact they can’t _actually_ purr. They can mimic it pretty damn well, though.

“I guess. I just kind of see trouble showing up on its own. Melog is great, but what if other stuff starts coming out of the woods?” she points out, gesturing vaguely out Catra’s backdoor. A few dozen meters from the edge of her property, the trees loom tall, the canopy beneath them dark. If Catra hadn’t long ago learned to bury her tells, she would have frozen.

Catra glances up out her back windows. She swears, for just a minute, she sees two softly-glowing blue pinpricks amongst the trees. Catra swallows, flicking her ears dismissively to cover how badly they want to twitch and scratching softly behind Melog’s ears, feeling her own purr begin to stutter as the feedback loop of good sensations starts between them.

She doesn’t think the inhabitants of the woods are as dangerous as some people fear, but telling Scorpia that someone else has already showed up probably won’t calm her, especially when it makes _Catra_ uneasy. Melog chirps happily and butts under her chin. They like Catra thinking about their friend – it reminds them of the fun they had running through the trees together.

“I’m not worried,” Catra settles on saying.

\--

Catra takes one look at her back door and immediately pulls up google. Yep, definitely a waning moon tonight – also it is _noon_.

There is still a wolf in her backyard, doing a play bow as Melog stalks towards her. Melog launches forward, and they go tumbling through the grass together. They both appear to be having the time of their lives, despite the time of day. Catra doesn’t even have a fence – anyone could see them. Not that they aren’t free to wander around how they please as long as they stay off other people’s private property, and people tend to mind their business in this area, but _still_.

Catra slides her back door open and leans against the door frame, crossing her arms as she watches the playfight draw to a halt, both of the large predators turning to look her way, ears perking up. Melog mews in greeting and the wolf lets out a happy bark. Catra can feel it in her _ribcage_.

Groceries thoroughly forgotten, Catra reaches out her hand and smiles to herself when Melog comes running up to butt their head up into it. The wolf trails behind them, looking at her hopefully. Catra had been a bit _unnerved_ by her before, but in her defense it was 5 in the morning. Now, the werewolf shoots her a puppy look after gently rolling through the grass with Melog, making Melog _happy_.

“Did your friend come to see you again?” Catra asks Melog, scratching behind their ears. Melog trills, happy and content. Catra knows she is smiling with an _embarrassing_ amount of fondness, and that under that wolf is a person who can very well recognize that and maybe even turn her into the coven, but Melog trusts her, so Catra tells herself she does not have to be worried. She still is, despite her good mood, but the wolf really just seems _sad_.

The wolf sits – which brings her about _eye level_ with Catra, fuck she is big – and looks at Catra with a hopeful wag of her tail. Catra stares at the wolf for a moment as she slowly hangs her head, tail going limp, but making no attempts to shove her way forward into Catra’s space again. Catra sighs, but she shifts to pet the wolf’s head instead. The wolf lets out a gentle noise of surprise and closes her eyes, leaning happily into the affection. Catra has to remind herself, once again, this is a person like her. Not that Catra doesn’t enjoy being pet too, but she is not adopting the wolf like she did Melog.

“I need to put away groceries before they melt. You two play nice,” Catra tells them as she drops her hand and fixes both of them with a look. Melog mews happily and the wolf gives an affirmative _boof._ She still seems reluctant to leave Catra’s side. She stays at the back door until Catra takes a step back inside and closes it behind her. After a moment of looking at her through the window almost _sadly_ , the wolf turns around and plods back out into the center of the yard, where Melog is waiting for her.

Catra watches them play through the back door as she puts her food away. The wolf seems very energetic. Maybe she just needed to burn off some of that energy. Catra googled some shit after Scorpia left following the full moon. Some werewolves are completely in control of their shifting and even able to resist the pull of the moon. Others are in control outside of the moon cycles, or unable to shift at will but at least not shifting on _accident_ outside of the full moon.

Catra suspects this wolf falls into the final category, though: unable to control shifting at any time, usually triggered by mental or physical stress. Now it is not a full moon, she could try to insist that the wolf shift back and introduce herself properly, just so she can screen who is spending unsupervised time with Melog, but-

She kind of prefers interacting with animals anyway, even if the wolf _could_ shift back right now. Animals are less complicated. The wolf is nice, but what if the human underneath _isn’t_. Catra doesn’t really know how this works. She would prefer deal with an agreeable dog than a bitchy human. Would she even shift back with clothes on? Catra doesn’t _know_. TV has shown her conflicting takes on that. Maybe the ability to do so has to do with mastering control of shifting.

Catra doesn’t need to seek out the answers, it turns out. When she finishes with her groceries, the wolf is gone, and Melog plods back into the house and splays themselves out on the tile, overheated from all the activity. Catra nudges them with her foot as she passes.

“Look at you, making friends without turning them into your psychic prisoner,” she teases. They both know it isn’t true. The bond is mutual, whatever it is. Even Melog is not certain. They were alone for such a long time before they gave into the siren call of the town.

Melog lets out a happy chuff and wriggles their head on the tile.

\--

The wolf is just a part of Catra’s life now. It took two weeks to ramp up, but now she sees her nearly every day. She asks the wolf if she has a home and gets an affirmative bark, but when she asks where it is she just gets a blank stare. She asks the wolf why she isn’t _there_ and the wolf whines and tries to shove her head in Catra’s hands. Catra snaps her claws out and the wolf shies away with her tail between her legs. It makes Catra sigh and retract them, petting the top of her head in apology.

Catra has good and bad days. On good days, she kind of likes waking up in the afternoon, or coming back from shopping in the evening, and finding the wolf running just within the tree line, or laying on her back porch, or wrestling with Melog in the yard. Catra never lets her in the house, even when she makes a bid for it, but she pets her _occasionally_. Alright, most times. She can’t help how much the wolf clearly loves it, and she feels kind of bad for them. The wolf clearly has no control over her form, and Catra highly suspects that _home_ is a den somewhere in the woods from what Melog shared on the first night.

Catra still has her bad days, where no matter the _five fucking years_ it has been since she saw her, she expects to wake up in Adora’s arms somehow. Twenty-three years old, and she is still pining for the girl she fell in love with at eight, the one who then _left_ her ten years later. On days where she wakes into a dream and then realizes it isn’t _real_ , Catra hisses and snarls when she sees the wolf at her back door. She hugs Melog but eventually lets them go when they want to join their friend. They say the wolf is lonely and hurt just like her. Catra doesn’t _care_. She found one damn good thing after losing everything else in the world and she doesn’t want it taken away by useless _empathy_.

The wolf has empathy for her, too – or at least pity. On the bad days she never leaves the yard, and rarely wrestles with Melog, instead spending time just laying on Catra’s back porch, watching the woods or alternatively watching _her_. It should probably feel like a violation, but it is just a relief when Melog comes back inside to be with her again and the wolf is there, an impartial third party.

Catra has come a long way from the desperate, broken, _heartless_ girl who called her way through the underground fighting circuit, making a name for herself with blood dripping from her claws. She was looking to feel anything again. She was looking for an outlet for all her rage. She wanted to prove she was _worth_ something even if Adora didn’t see it, and she needed fucking money.

Catra rolls out of bed with a groan. It is a bad day again. She considers pulling on real clothes, but she is pretty sure she is going to spend the rest of the day in a depressed huddle. She finds an oversized shirt of Adora’s she can never bring herself to wear except on days like this and a loose pair of shorts before she stumbles out to the living room.

Melog walks by her side, almost propping her up as she sleepily makes her way to the kitchen. She feels drained just from waking up today.

At her back door, there is desperate pawing that causes the door to rattle in its sliding track. Catra ignores it, letting Melog nudge her into the kitchen. She fixes herself some hojicha tea, because it is her favourite and she _deserves_ it right now after being reminded about that bitch by her own memories. The pawing at her back door has stopped, at least. Catra drops down to her kitchen floor and hugs Melog tightly while she waits for the water to heat.

Melog promises they won’t leave her. Catra swallows. She wishes she didn’t need the reassurance of the psychic bond to believe that, but getting to _feel_ Melog’s conviction is the only thing that really convinces her. She presses a kiss to the top of their head.

“Go play with your friend. I’ll be okay,” Catra tells them, softly, standing and turning to finish preparing her tea. She isn’t lying. She _is_ , but she made it five years alone and came out of it _ok_. Melog knows all of her conflicting emotions, though, so after a moment they gently nudge her hip and then turn around to the back door. Catra swallows the lump in her throat as she pours herself a mug.

She ignores the sound of the back door opening as she puts her tea supplies away. She scowls to herself when she realizes Melog isn’t _closing_ it. She turns around, the mug in one hand and placing her other on her hip to fix Melog with a firm look. Melog is laying in the living room, pressed against the glass while the wolf sticks her head through, laying it on the laminate floor and looking at Catra with those guilty eyes, whining softly.

Melog isn’t going to leave her. They want the wolf to come inside.

“ _No_ ,” Catra tells them both, edging into the living room and nudging the wolf’s head with her foot. The wolf immediately turns and tries to lick her ankle. “Ew, no, there has to be a person in there _somewhere_ who knows how gross that is. I know your thought process is different, but _ew_ ,” Catra grumbles, even as she moves to sit beside Melog.

She looked it up, because the wolf comes by enough she should at least know if she is casing the joint or something. Not that Catra has literally _anything_ worth stealing. She doesn’t even have a lot of furniture, her living room consisting of a single couch, TV stand, and secondhand television. She has a big closet and a nice bathroom, but her floor-mattress isn’t winning any awards. All her money is in the bank. She _has_ it, she earned it with bloody knuckles, but she spends most of her money she didn’t squirrel away in savings on expanding the cabinet bursting with hybrid toys in the laundry room.

The wolf could actually be casing her house, but she would also be aware there is nothing worth stealing. Her thoughts are _shaped differently_ , according to the internet, and she doesn’t process things the same way. She is given to baser impulses, closer to the behaviour of a drunk person than a fully cognizant adult. The more in control she is of her shifting, the clearer her thoughts, but Catra knows that isn’t the case for _this_ wolf.

Catra sighs and reaches her hand out. The wolf chuffs hopefully and pokes her head back inside the house, flopping down over the back doormat so she can lay with her head inside while _technically_ staying outside. Catra rolls her eyes as Melog scoots closer to the door. She curls into their side while she pets over the wolf’s ears.

She isn’t letting the wolf inside. That is when it turns out this was a long-con and she was a murderer the whole time. But she will let her rest her giant head on the ground beside her, so Catra can curl into Melog’s side, petting the wolf’s ears as she lets her eyes slip closed.

\--

Things go downhill in seconds. She is sitting on the back porch, Melog having convinced her to come outside, while Melog chases a leaf happily and the wolf lays with her head in her lap. Her head is big enough Catra can easily hug it, burying her face in the wolf’s scruff. It is oddly comforting. Adora used to do this with her and found it calming, but-

Catra cuts off her thoughts, letting out a shaky breath into the wolf’s fur. The wolf turns her head a little, nudging into her stomach, dragging her cheek-

Catra’s reaction is immediate and visceral, shoving the wolf away and _snarling_ as her claws snap out, anger overtaking her. The wolf yelps and shies away, whimpering and plastering her ears back. Catra doesn’t care, not even as Melog appears at her side to calm her. She bares her fangs at the wolf, growling as her fur bristles.

“This isn’t _yours_. You don’t get to fucking _mark_ it,” she growls at the dejected wolf, still shying back and whimpering, looking up at her with guilty eyes. Always the guilty eyes with this one. Catra wants to slice, tear, what she _always_ wanted when Adora first left, and now this wolf is trying to take what little of her she has left by marking Adora’s clothes as _hers_.

Melog cuts into her thoughts with a calm hum. It feels unnatural after such rage came bubbling up, but it silences her growl and lets her fur lie flat as the fight drains out of her. Without the adrenaline she is too tired.

“Just- just go _away_. I know you have a home somewhere. I’m not yours. I’m not _anybody’s_. I don’t _want you here_. Melog is mine, and you can- back off,” Catra grinds out to the submitting wolf, turning on her heel and stalking inside. Melog follows her, not wanting to leave her alone when she is like this, and Catra slams the door shut and locks it behind them. Melog can still open it from the inside, but the wolf can’t get in.

Catra stalks to her bedroom, tail lashing, and spends the rest of the day in a depressed huddle in her bed, tucking her nose into her collar and searching for any traces of Adora’s scent.

She finds none.

\--

Huntara asks her to work the full moon again and Catra flat out tells her no. She will work the day before, and the day after, the almost-full days, but some weird magical energy shit goes down on the true full moon and Catra prefers to _stay inside_ for it. The last full moon snuck up on her, but she swears the guy slipping shit into drinks that day was a vampire, and she doesn’t want to have to deal with any weird moon-based power ups.

It does mean spending an evening alone at home, though. It has only been a few days, and Catra has caught the wolf hanging around the woods a few times, but she hasn’t had the nerve to come back up to the door. Melog perks up as the sun sets, hauling their massive frame off of where they are taking up the majority of the couch. They want to find their friend again. They also want Catra to come this time. Catra narrows her eyes out into the woods.

She has never been in them. Once again, _chanting_. Most of the non-supernatural residents of town steer clear. Kids go on stupid dares into them and come out with stories of monsters and ghosts, but Catra was never that much of an idiot. She isn’t really _worried_ about something happening, not with Melog by her side, but she also is not inclined to change her ways. She knows the wolf is not going to steal Melog from her, and she is having one of her good days, but she also doesn’t want to _deal_ with her.

Catra looked it up. Wolves don’t scentmark like she can. Her reaction was over nothing but some affectionate nuzzling. The idea of apologizing to the beast still makes her nose want to wrinkle.

“You go ahead. I’m not up to running around in the mud tonight,” Catra tells Melog, slumping down on the couch and turning her gaze back to the TV. She has it muted, the shitty audio quality of the piece of tech she found on the curbside far too grating for her to turn off subtitles. Melog nudges her side with their nose, trying to cajole her. Catra sighs, reaching out to scratch their ears without looking away from the TV.

“I’ll go sometime, I promise, but I’m not up to running through unknown territory right now,” Catra tells them. She really isn’t. She gets a little anxious leading up to the full moon, knowing Melog is going to leave her for a night, and she just feels too twitchy to go into unfamiliar territory where she knows she doesn’t belong, even if it means keeping Melog by her side.

Melog gives her one last nuzzle in affectionate assurance before they slip away into the night.

\--

Catra wakes up from a catnap to pawing at the back door. In the distance, she vaguely registers thunder as she stumbles out to the living room in underwear and an oversized t-shirt. At the back door, Melog waits with the wolf, both of them huddling together in the rain outside. Lightning flashes as Catra approaches the door, and a loud boom in the distance promises that the storm is about to pick up.

Catra fumbles with the back door, hauling it open and stepping aside to let her hulking, _soaking_ cat in. Melog mews dejectedly as they pass her, ears plastered to the sides of their head. On the porch, the wolf hesitates, golden fur slicked down to her broad frame. Her tail is tucked between her legs. Catra rolls her eyes, pointing to the kitchen.

“Both of you shake off in there. If either of you get on any of my furniture while wet, I’ll make a rug out of you,” she rasps, voice still rough with sleep. The wolf hesitates a moment more – valid, considering their last interaction, but Catra is _moody_ and the wolf is just going to have to learn to deal with it - before cautiously stepping inside, water pouring off her fluffy coat as she pads onto the laminate. Catra closes the door with a sigh as she listens to the sounds of Melog shaking off in the kitchen.

She leaves them to it, heading back to her bedroom to make her way into the master and fetch a towel. Actually, she fetches all three of the towels that she owns. She returns to the living room as Melog lets out a loud squeak. The wolf chuffs, pleased with herself for shaking all over Melog. Catra feels her lips quirk as she watches Melog shake again in retaliation and then flee the kitchen before the wolf can shake off the resulting spray. She still does – she has a hell of a lot more fur than Melog does, and the water is clinging to it – but she misses Melog with the shake.

Melog barrels into the towel in Catra’s hands happily, rubbing themselves on the cloth and making their vibrating echo of a purr as Catra sets to drying them. The wolf hangs back in the kitchen, clearly uncertain. Catra glances towards the clock. One AM. It will be a while yet before they can shift back, if they can at all. She doesn’t even know if she would shift back dry anyway.

“Come on, Goldilocks, I need to dry you off before you ruin my rug,” Catra says to her, glancing up as she finishes drying off Melog’s legs. Not that they are _dry_ , but they aren’t dripping water anymore like the wolf is. The wolf huffs, sending her an irritated look, but she cautiously trots over. “What, don’t like that one? What about _Goose_?” she asks. The wolf twists her head to send her an incredulous look. Catra smirks at her as she rubs the towel along her shoulders, fluffing her coat back up.

“Because you look like what might have hatched from the golden egg. Listen, if you’re going to crash in my living room, you can at least let me give you a nickname. It should be something fairy tale based. You’re picky like a princess,” Catra tells her. The wolf huffs again, _rolling her eyes_ , which Catra did not even think dogs could _do_ , but she puts up no further protests as Catra dries her off. She smirks to herself as she switches to another towel, her current one too wet to be of much use anymore.

“You want a chew toy to occupy yourself with until the storm lets up, princess? I’ve got a couple,” Catra teases as she works. The wolf looks chagrinned as her tail begins to wag hopefully. Catra can’t help but cackle to herself. “Alright, I’ll fetch you something. Just keep off the rug and couch,” Catra tells her, standing and gathering the wet towels in her arms.

She deposits the towels in her hamper, and then reaches up into her laundry room cabinet to pull down one of the toys she normally saves for special occasions. She grabs the wolf a large stick made of hard plastic, hoping it will be enough to stand up to her jaws, and grabs Melog one of the softer rubber toys that is shaped like a sea bass.

She doesn’t want them to get jealous, and she also doesn’t want a wolf loose in her house and fighting her instincts without something to let out her energy on. She returns with a toy in each hand. Melog mews excitedly and immediately comes wandering over, nosing at the toys. Catra knows her smile is stupidly fond as she offers them the fish and they take it gently in their mouth, bounding off to flop against the glass of the back door to chew.

The wolf approaches her a bit cautiously, sniffing at her hand hopefully. They seem uncertain. Catra offers them the branch. “Go on. Melog doesn’t mind. Hell, I’ve got a few toys of my own for when I’m too close to biting someone,” Catra tells them, wriggling the branch a little. The wolf cautiously takes it in her mouth, looking up at Catra almost like she is seeking approval. Catra finds herself frowning.

“You’ve never used a chew toy before, have you, princess?” she asks. The wolf blinks slowly at her. Catra feels a bit incredulous. Every hybrid kid grows up with these. Well, _she_ didn’t, but that was more due to her shitty childhood than anything else. She would assume someone who can turn into a full _wolf_ had experience with them. Catra bites her lip.

“It’s all yours, princess. Don’t worry about chewing it up. That’s what it is for,” she assures the wolf, reaching out to pet her head. The wolf leans gratefully in her hand. “Alright, I’m going back to sleep. Melog can let you out, or you can wake me up if you need anything. Just try to keep it down, both of you,” Catra tells them, glancing between the two.

Melog mews from where they have their fish caught between their paws. The wolf lets out a gentle chuff and makes no move to leave, looking up at her with hopeful eyes. Catra feels her ears pin back, looking away. Okay, she was a dick, she _knows_. It just- it was _Adora’s_ shirt, and despite how she should give as few shits about Adora as Adora clearly did about her, she can’t let it go, especially not on a day bad enough where she actually pulls it out from the back of her closet. Just because the reaction was unwarranted doesn’t mean Catra _knew_ that. She sighs.

“Listen, princess, you can _stay_ or whatever, but my room is off limits, okay? And so are my clothes. Some of them are important,” she mutters out. Princess whines softly, nudging against her side, but Catra doesn’t relent. Well, fine, she pets her ears again, but she doesn’t _look_ at her.

“And I’m sticking with princess,” she adds with a scoff. She takes a step back, making a shooing motion in Princess’s direction. Princess looks up at her with puppy eyes for several seconds, whining softly around the branch. Catra raises her brow at Princess. That is the closest she has come to apologizing to someone other than Scorpia in her _life_ and Princess isn’t getting better. After a long moment, Princess ducks her head and offers Catra a slow blink before standing reluctantly.

Princess trots over to Melog, laying down facing them and carefully depositing the toy between her paws. Catra watches her nose at it, inspecting it and lightly mouthing at it to feel it out. She rolls her eyes as she turns back to the bedroom. It is not that complicated. Princess will figure it out, or fall asleep.

She closes her bedroom door and immediately collapses in her bed. Normally she has trouble sleeping on her own, but with the comforting sounds of Melog and Princess quietly enjoying their toys in the living room, she finds herself lulled into sleep.

\--

Princess stays. Catra is not sure how much she _meant_ those words when she said them, but apparently there is no taking them back. Melog lets themselves and Princess in and out of the house as needed, and Catra inspects her home whenever she returns to it, but nothing goes missing and nothing new – aside from Princess herself – shows up. Princess’s scent, woodsy and bright but a little musky, never leaves the open space of the living room-kitchen combo. She doesn’t even go into the laundry room after Catra’s warning to leave her clothes alone. She takes to sleeping on the sofa, but Catra _allows_ it.

(She couldn’t stop her if she fucking tried. Princess is _huge_.)

Catra returns home a week after Princess unofficially moves in to find the wolf at her back door again. Melog went out with Catra this time, and she raises an eyebrow as she opens the back door and steps aside. Princess comes bounding in, shaking off the chill of the fall air and fluffing up her coat as she does so. The wolf looks up at her, panting and basically _smiling_ , as Catra closes the back door and shuts out the cold air.

“You know, I swear werewolves are supposed to be a _full moon_ thing,” she points out, but she picks back up her shopping bags and heads into the kitchen. She is well aware of what Princess’s situation is. She looked it up – it is definitely possible for a werewolf to get stuck in their wolf form long term. She found reports of it lasting for their entire lives, on rare occasions.

Melog, still shrunk down from their trip out, bounds up to Princess and rubs against the wolf’s leg in greeting. Princess sniffs them curiously, likely confused by their shifting size. Yeah, Catra can’t really help with that one. They just do it, and like everything else with Melog, Catra learned not to question it.

Catra sets to putting away the new mugs she got – she doesn’t know why hers keep cracking, but she would like them to _stop_ – as Princess flops out onto the rug, and Melog climbs happily atop her and sets to making biscuits in her fur. Princess doesn’t seem to mind, tail thumping in a wag occasionally as Melog turns in circles and settles in a ball on her back.

“You are both apex predators,” Catra reminds from her kitchen, because her heart is _feeling things_ , and she can’t allow that. Princess lets out a soft _boof_ and Melog practically fucking _bounces_ from the sudden movement of the wolf’s sides. Catra snickers to herself as Melog mews in admonishment and then resettles higher up, towards her shoulders.

Catra steps over Princess to make her way to the couch and turns on the TV. From here, she can just barely stretch out her toes and bury them in the soft fur of Princess’s side. She doesn’t know why the wolf befriended Melog, aside from Melog perhaps sensing she was a kindred spirit. She doesn’t know why Princess has made no efforts to tell Catra her real name, aside from her not _remembering_ it, maybe.

She doesn’t know why a wolf, clearly so used to living in the forest, has suddenly decided to move into her home with her aside from perhaps the approaching winter. No matter how many times Catra hisses or growls at her, Princess keeps returning, but Catra finds she doesn’t really mind her presence, and she is glad Melog has a friend.

She still gets insecure. She still feels jealousy roiling in her ribs when she sees Princess and Melog curled together – but Melog feels it too, and always reaches out for her. She swears Princess can just _tell_. She always makes an effort to nuzzle into Catra when the jealousy flares. For the moment, she looks down at Melog curled into Princess’s side and just finds it _cute_.

It took Adora eighteen years to leave her. Catra has time to enjoy this, first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A rough idea of what werewolf Adora looks like](https://n7punk.tumblr.com/post/635095160238292992/wolveswolves-by-leah-horstman), for those curious.  
> I'll be posting new chapters about 2-3 times a week for now.  
> Again, just reiterating that I know wolves and canids can't scentmark like cats, but _Catra_ didn't know that, and is a bit emotionally volatile at the moment, despite the progress she has made.


	2. Interlude I: Animal Instincts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the early parts of this story, and maybe occasionally later on, I will do short interludes from Adora’s perspective. I’m planning 3 right now, but I may add more.  
> In this universe, “folk” refers to all supernatural creatures, but usually not hybrids.

Glimmer refuses to roll down the window of her SUV for her. Adora whines, her hands shaking a bit as she tries to work the child lock on the door and _fails_. She isn’t used to having human hands anymore, and sometimes when she tells them to do things her fingers just fumble and quiver. Glimmer exudes exasperation from the driver’s seat.

“You’re a person, Adora. No whining. And no hanging your head out the window,” Glimmer lectures. Adora scoffs, slumping down in her seat a little. She shouldn’t be petulant. Glimmer is already doing her a favour, taking Adora shopping with her so she doesn’t have to spend any of her limited time as a human alone.

It is a risk. The full moon was last night and the ritual Glimmer, Angella, and Castaspella perform with its magic only lets Adora fight the curse for so long. She gets a day of being human at best – sometimes it is just a few hours. There is a distinct risk she could turn back into a wolf in the middle of the grocery store. Werewolf transformations don’t usually just _happen_ in public, at least not on accident. Maybe occasionally on the full moon, but not the day _after_.

She presses her cheek against the cool glass of the car window and watches the streets pass longingly. She knows there is no place for her in town, that the only place she really belongs now is in the woods with the other monstrous folk, but she _misses_ it. Five years have only amplified the longing.

They pull into a parking lot, and Adora feels herself perk up. It is _weird_ to not have her tail wagging, but clearly her excitement is visible because Glimmer laughs at her. Adora hasn’t been in a public setting - at least not outside of visiting the coven nexus during her brief time as human each month - since she was eighteen. She is _excited_ , even if it is only grocery shopping.

Glimmer is a little exasperated with how much she touches things, excited to have hands again. Adora can’t help running her hands over anything she sees that she _almost_ remembers the sensation of touching from before all this. Everything feels different as a wolf – everything _is_ different. With a different set of senses, she experiences a completely new world, separate of the one she sees as a human.

The trip goes well. She loses Glimmer at one point, distracted and overwhelmed by everything new and yet _known_ , but once Glimmer finds her again Adora does her best to stick nearby to her friend. At least until they reach the deli. Adora doesn’t know what it is – it isn’t the meat, no matter what Glimmer thinks. Something is _off_ , an electric current hitting her body that she almost wishes she had her animal senses to understand.

She feels the shift starting and shoves the bag of apples she is holding into Glimmer’s hands as she takes off, running for the doors. By the time she hits the street, she is on all fours, and she barely makes it around the edge of the building before the shift takes over.

She walks to Glimmer’s car with her tail between her legs. The parking lot smells bad now. Metallic, almost like blood. There are people everywhere, and they all stare and shy away from her. Adora makes it to the car she knows, sitting on the lot beside it and waiting. It takes a little bit, but she perks up, her tail wagging automatically when Glimmer’s scent hits her nose.

Glimmer carries a few shopping bags, but she still shuffles them around to pet the top of Adora’s head when she reaches the car, relief rolling off her at finding Adora again. Adora just pants happily and leans against her hip. There are too many people, too many smells, and all her instincts tell her to find the cover of undergrowth.

Glimmer lets her hang her head out the window as she drives them back to the Whispering Woods. Glimmer lets her out at Thaymor, the folk village just within the boundary of the woods. Adora gives her a few licks goodbye before going bounding through the village, greeted by spriggans, trolls, and the full assortment of folk a bit too monstrous to feel comfortable in normal society.

Adora doesn’t understand why they would want to live separately – if society had a chance at understanding her, she would be back in it, ever-vigilant for a pair of ears and swish of a tail.

\--

Adora’s den belongs to her. She can’t explain it, but when she first found it, she knew it was hers. She can feel it is a place of ancient power. She thinks werewolves used to gather here on the full moon, before the covens worked to integrate all the folk together. Carvings of wolves decorate the dilapidated stones, stirring something in her bones.

She lives amongst the rubble of the abandoned shrine, in a soft bed of overgrowth that has crept over the stones, the structure stretching above her head and providing her with a dry home. She could live in Thaymor with the other folk, but even they don’t understand how to communicate with her as a wolf for the most part. It is worse to be among people and ostracized than fully alone. Adora remembers what it was like to have a friend, someone she loved, someone who loved _her_ -

She hasn’t seen Catra since she became a monster. Even once Adora could be human on occasion after two years of only being a wolf, she couldn’t get back the one person she wanted. Glimmer drove her around town over two different full moons until Adora was able to recognize the building Catra lived in. When Adora went to knock on the door, she was greeted by a human. Catra was gone, and Adora had no way to contact her. Catra didn’t have a cellphone or computer, every cent she had going to rent. No magicats were registered with the coven. There were no leads.

She has the full moons, at least. Adora hauls herself out of her den, looking up through the canopy towards the moon. All month, the trees form a roof of branches overhead, but Adora swears they part on the full moon to let the light shine through. She howls, long and sad. A call, but she doesn’t know for what. Catra isn’t here – she isn’t listening.

Someone is, though. Someone is approaching through the undergrowth. Another predator, only a bit smaller than her. Adora perks her ears and watches as a large cat emerges from the edge of the clearing and surveys her carefully.

\--

Adora should go to the ritual – she should see Glimmer, and Bow, and Angella, and everybody else. She should definitely be human for a day or two, but it almost feels _hopeless_. She has been alone so long. She feels only half-connected when she has hands anyway, still outside of society despite appearing to belong to it.

The cat was lonely too. Melog found a friend who understood them, a person, and now they aren’t so alone. Adora understands all of this, from scent and body language and all her senses. She wants to meet this person, see if they could understand _her_. Afterwards, she will go to the ritual if it is still ongoing.

Melog leads her to the edge of the woods, trotting up to the back porch of a house and looking back to where Adora hangs back within the forest cautiously. There does not appear to be any immediate danger. She crosses the small greenbelt separating the home from the woods quickly, darting up to the porch with Melog. Melog paws loudly at the backdoor, rattling it in its track, as Adora sniffs the air experimentally.

The scent here is _good_ , familiar but not. She has never smelled it before, and yet she knows it. She doesn’t understand, not until a door opens inside and Catra comes stumbling out of a bedroom, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Adora is frozen, staring in shock as Catra blinks at her with no recognition in her eyes and then _hisses_.

Adora flinches. Catra doesn’t _want_ her there, doesn’t like her. No- Catra doesn’t know it is her. She has her tail tucked between her legs, her heart hammering, but Catra merely narrows her eyes at her before making her way to the backdoor and opening it reluctantly. Adora looks up at her, still guilty and disbelieving.

_It’s her, it’s her, it’s her._

Her mind is trying to have human thoughts, their shape foreign to her current pathways. She wants to sweep Catra up in her arms and kiss her. She can’t do that. Catra looks _annoyed_ by her presence. Adora tries to hunch down a bit, make herself smaller, and wags her tail hopefully.

_It’s me, it’s me, it’s me._

Catra speaks, and the words sound like music to her. Adora glances to Melog, hoping for a sign, totally out of her depth as her human half tries to use logic while the wolf part of her struggles to even process. She tries to nudge forward, to sniff against Catra’s side and offer her the affection she is able right now, but Catra growls at her.

She freezes. Catra is mad. Adora has to remind herself it is not _at her_. Catra doesn’t know, and she isn’t taking kindly to a werewolf showing up. She doesn’t like there being a werewolf near her. Adora looks up at Catra, trying to communicate with her eyes.

 _It’s me. Don’t hate me_.

Catra meets her eyes, and she sees a flash of pain and anger there before she looks away, back to Melog. She tells them they should both go away. Adora tries to nudge forward, to touch her again, to _show_ her, but Catra hisses at her. She doesn’t want to be touched – somewhere, the human part of her reminds Adora that Catra never wanted to be touched by anyone but her.

Catra doesn’t know it is her. Catra isn’t going to let her in enough to _realize_ that if she pushes too far too fast. Adora knows how to hunt, how to lure prey into a false sense of security until they let their barriers down. She knows how to love Catra, to treat her with gentle affection and firm roughhousing that proves she isn’t coddling her. Adora was never patient before, but she was never a werewolf either. She can hunt and play the long game until Catra loves her again. Eventually, she can tell Catra it is _her_ again.

That is the plan, anyway.

\--

Adora was never good at plans, and the wolf isn’t either, but she _knows_ what she has to do. Acclimate Catra to her presence, get her slowly trusting her until she will let Adora in like she let in Melog. There is a communication barrier, but Catra already understands her as a wolf better than Glimmer ever did. Adora all but abandons her den, spending most of her time near the edge of the woods, slipping out on occasion.

Melog wants to be friends. She wants to be friends with Melog. Melog used to be lonely and doesn’t want her to be anymore. It is easy for them to play together and slowly adjust Catra to her presence nearby. Catra is territorial – Adora needs to establish herself as someone who isn’t a threat to that territory. Someone who will let Catra lead the pack if she will just let Adora _in_ it.

Catra isn’t doing well, Adora can tell. Sometimes she shuffles out into the living room, bags beneath her eyes, and hisses at the mere sight of her, jealousy rolling off her in waves. Catra was always jealous, but usually of things that threatened to take _Adora_ from her. She doesn’t want Adora to take Melog now. On those days, Adora abandons her plan a bit and just tries to be _there_ for Catra, even if Catra doesn’t actually want her around.

Adora doesn’t know what is wrong. Catra isn’t sick – she seems to be the healthiest she has ever been, a solid sleep and workout routine well in place and getting the nutrients she needs. She just doesn’t want Adora around, and she is sad, and sometimes lonely or angry. Catra _needs_ her, but she won’t let her in, won’t do more than cautiously pet her and block her way inside.

Adora is waiting well into the afternoon at the back porch one day when Catra emerges from her bedroom, sad and hurt, _in Adora’s clothes_. Adora damn near breaks down the door. She wants to run in, to wag her tail and throw her arms around Catra and say _it’s me_. Catra ignores her, but Melog knows Adora wants to comfort her.

Catra lets her have her head inside eventually, cuddling with her and Melog. Adora wants to shove her way inside, to yank at the edge of her shirt until Catra _gets it_ – but Catra is having a bad day and she can’t push it. Comforting Catra is more important than her needs.

\--

Catra comes outside with her, _cuddles_ her, and it is everything Adora wants. Catra is beneath her, wearing her shirt, marked as her pack. All she wants to do is cuddle back, nuzzle into her-

But she drives Catra away instead.

“This isn’t _yours_. You don’t get to fucking _mark_ it,” Catra growls. Adora _can’t_ , but she wants to mark it just like Catra used to mark her. The shirt _is_ hers and so is Catra.

Catra doesn’t know that, though. Catra doesn’t want to be her pack. Catra doesn’t want _her_. Adora let her animal instincts go too far, forgot her humanity and this delicate situation they are in. Only now does she realize how delicate it _is_.

Catra belongs to no one. Catra has rejected her. Not just the wolf, but _Adora_. Adora used to wonder what Catra thought of her, after she felt the curse taking hold that night and fled in fear. Catra called after her, but Adora’s teeth were elongating and she barely managed to stay upright until the apartment door was slammed behind her.

The woods called to her. She could see them looming at the edge of town, _safety_. She ran, lost and wild, merely an animal, until she reached their safety. It took her time to start having human thoughts again, but by then she couldn’t find her way back, the world too different with her second set of senses. She recognized nothing when she skulked into the streets of town. She didn’t know what Catra thought, but she assumed Catra thought she was missing, since she vanished into thin air that night.

Catra doesn’t think that. Her rage, her denial, all make it clear: Catra thinks she has been _left_. A dozen little things she has said over the last few weeks all add up: she _hates_. Hates Adora, hates anyone who would try to get close to her. Melog is all she has. Catra isn’t hers, and Catra isn’t _Adora’s_ anymore either. She doesn’t want her.

Adora flees to the woods. For the first time in weeks, she returns to her den.

\--

Melog finds her on the full moon. Adora should go to the ritual, but she _hurts_ , and she knows that pain will only be amplified once she has a human heart again. If- if she could turn human, maybe she could find Catra and _explain_ , but she thinks the heartbreak at seeing how she has hurt Catra just might kill her human heart.

Melog wants her to come back. They say it is okay. Maybe Catra didn’t mean it? She used to lash out a lot as a kid. Melog coaxes her from her den. They don’t get far before the still night air cracks open with spell-lighting, and suddenly rain is downpouring from the sky. It pelts against her coat, hard and painful, and Adora whines as Melog forges on ahead to the house. They are closer to it than her den anyway, but Adora doesn’t think Catra wants her nearby, much less inside.

Except Catra does let her inside. Catra dries her coat with firm purpose, like Adora used to do for Catra when they were kids. Catra offers her _a toy_ , and to _stay_. She gives her a name, and it isn’t right, but it isn’t _wrong_ to be called something affectionately by Catra again, so Adora accepts it. They are pack again, and whatever Catra wants to call her is okay as long as she lets Adora in.

\--

Catra tries to feed her in the morning. Adora isn’t insulted, but she still refuses. She can provide for herself. She can provide for _Catra_. She won’t be a drain on her. After Catra’s mid-day breakfast, she opens the back door for Adora and ushers her out. Adora follows orders with her tail between her legs, the urge to do what Catra wants conflicting with the urge to _stay_.

“Relax, Princess. Go find some food you like. I don’t start work for a few more hours. As long as you aren’t a shit hunter, I can let you in again before I leave,” Catra tells her, rolling her eyes and nudging Adora with her foot. Adora isn’t _sure_ , but she goes anyway. Catra has promised to let her back in. Catra cares about promises.

She hunts, taking down a boar and bringing it to the edge of the woods so Catra can _see_ , so Melog can join if they want. Catra wrinkles her nose but gives her a thumbs up before returning to her shadowboxing routine. Melog doesn’t want game anymore now that Catra takes care of them. Adora retreats to the brush, not wanting to make Catra watch her eat since she seems distasteful.

Adora creeps back into the backyard cautiously. Catra has finished her daily workout routine. She is back in the house, absently kicking a ball around for Melog to chase. She looks up when Adora arrives at the back door, raising her eyebrow and surveying her. Adora hunches down, trying to appear small, nonthreatening.

Catra crosses to the back door and opens it. Catra _lets her in_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A coven nexus is like its town hall – the coven leader lives there, business is conducted out of it, and it is a public space for all coven members to visit and mingle with others like them.


	3. 2. Poltergeist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The entire reason I wrote this AU was to put a leash on Adora.

Princess is standing in the doorway of the laundry room. She doesn’t seem to dare step inside, her feet firmly planted in the main living space, but she has her head craned into the room, sniffing the air cautiously as Catra unloads the dryer. Nervous energy is rolling off the wolf. Catra sighs, turning to where the hulking golden creature is hovering nervously outside of the room.

“You ever have a fucking terrible breakup?” she asks the wolf. She has no clue how old Princess is, or if werewolves age differently. She doubts, if she asked, that Princess would be able to tell her how old she is either. She also has no clue how long Princess has been a wolf, but she gets the impression it has been a few years. Princess recognizes appliances, so she spent _some_ time living with humans before taking to the woods, but she is clearly unsure about many things when she first encounters them, even if she adapts quickly.

Princess blinks at her once. Not the slow blink that means trust, or the purposeful one that means _yes_ , but rather confusion. She tilts her head a little and whines. Catra sighs. Yeah, she didn’t think so. She turns back to her laundry, slamming the dryer shut now she has it emptied.

“Well I have. Some of my clothes belong to my ex. She was the love of my fucking life and she broke my heart. The clothes are all I have left of her. Leave them alone and you’re fine to come in,” Catra explains, kicking at the side of her hamper to slide it towards the door of the laundry room. Princess _whines_ , sad and long. Pitying her, probably. She is also blocking the doorway. Catra scowls at her and makes a shooing motion. Princess just stares up at her with her kicked-puppy eyes.

“She made love to me for the first time, and then left in the middle of the fucking night and I never saw her again. Happy? _Move_ ,” Catra hisses. Princess shies back, tucking her tail between her legs and whining softly. Catra forces herself to take a deep breath before she bends to pick up her hamper and carry it into the living room. She doesn’t _want_ to be mean to Princess. She is past the point of her life where she just wants to be cruel.

It never made her feel better. Scorpia and Entrapta – and later, Melog – are what made her feel something again, their unconditional friendship finally starting to piece Catra’s broken heart back together. Catra doesn’t want to be cruel anymore, but her friends learned a long time ago not to bring up Adora. Princess doesn’t know those rules. She is a _wolf_. Heartbreak is a concept beyond her. She cannot imagine how absolutely hollow Catra was afterwards, or the things Catra did to try to feel better.

Catra drops the hamper on her living room floor, settling with her back against the couch and turning on one of the cooking shows Princess likes to watch and drool over. Melog uses her momentary distraction to shrink down and hop into the warm laundry, which causes Catra to chuckle. Honestly, she would like to join them, so she just carefully selects a shirt from the edge of the basket and pulls it out.

She sends a glance into Princess’s direction. Princess is still hovering by the wall, unmoved from the door to the laundry room, looking unsure and pained. Catra rolls her eyes, jerking her head back in a clear _come here_ gesture. Princess whines, but she follows the command, trotting over and cautiously lying beside Catra, not quite touching and looking up at her with a pathetic expression. Catra scoffs, turning back to her laundry.

“I used to have long hair, you know,” she says, because she doesn’t want fucking _pity_. Princess makes a quiet, questioning sound. “I’m a little _young_ to be a homeowner. I was a fighter for a while. Cut off my hair after one of my opponents grabbed it to counter me. I keep trying to grow it back out, but it’s a nightmare in the in-between stage so I never commit to it,” Catra tells her. A distraction, bringing up the things she has done since the breakup, but it makes the wolf whine and nudge closer to her. She snuffles at Catra’s hip, and Catra pats her head as she reaches for another piece of laundry.

“I was an absolute scrapper. It took me a bit, but I tore through everybody they put me up against. I kept going until I could afford to buy this place and then some. Met my two best friends because of the ring,” Catra explains to her.

Princess seems to _get_ her in a way it took Scorpia ages to understand. She understands that Catra offering stories is both a peace offering and a distraction. Maybe her animal senses just let her pick up the intent easier. She whines softly, still sad, but she nuzzles into Catra’s hip, eventually working her way until her head is taking up all of Catra’s lap.

Catra sighs, abandoning the laundry for the moment to instead pet her latest addition. Melog is enjoying their warm bed anyway. Catra finds herself cuddling Princess’s enormous head, letting herself just relax into the rhythmic breathing against her.

\--

Catra oversleeps. She never minds working nights – it is what she did as a fighter, too, and magicats are nocturnally-inclined anyway – but her friends unfortunately _don’t_ , and so Scorpia shows up after lunch on Friday. Catra isn’t even _awake_. She tucks her head under her pillow and groans while she lets Melog go deal with the pounding on her door.

It isn’t until she picks up Scorpia’s voice joyously greeting Melog followed by growling that Catra remembers it is even time for her to come by – and that Scorpia doesn’t know about Princess, or vice versa. Princess has only been _staying_ with her for two weeks, and Catra sent her out to go play in the woods before Scorpia’s last visit, not wanting to justify her presence. Catra bolts out of bed in just her underwear and a t-shirt, grateful Melog left her bedroom door open as she stumbles into the living room.

Scorpia is standing just within her front door, frozen in the middle of petting Melog, staring with wide eyes at where Princess is standing beside the sofa, her fur ruffled a little and growling a low warning to Scorpia. It isn’t a dangerous growl, mere displeasure at the unknown woman’s presence in her territory, but Catra is not sure if Scorpia can tell that.

“Princess! Down girl,” Catra orders, snapping her fingers. Princess immediately breaks eye contact from staring Scorpia down, turning her head to Catra and pinning her ears back, breaking her growl with an apologetic whine. Her tail tucks between her legs as she shrinks down a little. “Scorpia is fine. She’s a friend,” Catra tells Princess, leaning against her doorframe and going a bit limp now she knows there is no immediate danger.

Princess has the grace to look ashamed, hanging her head and skulking up to Catra. Catra reaches out and pets the top of her head, which makes Princess’s fur lie flat again as she wags her tail hopefully. Catra scoffs, but she gives Princess scratches behind her ears.

“I appreciate you defending the house, but Melog wouldn’t open the door for strangers. Scorpia is allowed inside,” she tells Princess. Princess chuffs, ducking her head and making eye contact for a moment before she carefully rubs against Catra’s shin and nuzzles her. Catra rolls her eyes. Wolves may not scent like she does, but Princess has definitely taken to nuzzling like she can as a mirror to Catra and Melog’s actions.

“I’m still not yours, Princess. Now play nice while I put _pants_ on,” she tells her, before turning to stalk into her bedroom again, leaving a dazed Scorpia alone with Catra’s two quadruped housemates. She can figure it out.

\--

Scorpia has Princess on the floor and is giving her belly rubs. It is kind of ridiculous, especially considering she is _lecturing_ Catra about the wolf.

“Seriously, she may be magic, but she is still a _wild animal_. She is territorial!” Scorpia points out. Catra snorts from her spot curled up on the couch.

“So am I. And she isn’t wild, she’s a werewolf. She got stuck, but she knows what a _TV_ is still. She’s fine. Melog likes having a friend,” Catra tells Scorpia. Scorpia freezes in the middle of rubbing Princess’s stomach. Catra rolls her eyes. “She likes belly rubs, it’s fine. You’re not _degrading_ her,” Catra tells her. Actually, Scorpia’s sudden hesitance is giving her an idea, but she shelves it for now.

Scorpia tries to convince Catra she can’t keep a person as a pet, which Catra quickly rebukes by saying she never treats _Melog_ as a pet. Scorpia then tries to work the _opening her home to a stranger_ angle, which is more convincing if only because Catra used to worry about the same thing. Halfway through that debate, Princess crawls into her lap and effectively pins her to the sofa, glaring at Scorpia. Catra can _feel_ her jealousy. At least she isn’t the only one of them with issues.

“Princess hasn’t been a person in years. I don’t think she even remembers her name. She’s smart, but she isn’t pulling a _heist,_ and I don’t let her in the bedroom. Are you trying to convince me to be _more_ distrusting?” Catra asks. That shuts Scorpia up. It even warms Scorpia up to Princess as their conversation turns back to their lives.

“Did you break through to stone queen’s heart? Did you?” Scorpia coos as she scratches the spot on Princess’s lower back that makes her leg thump. She is kind of laying on it right now, so she just twitches and pants happily in Catra’s lap. Catra makes a noise of disgust. She kind of preferred the lecture to _babytalk_. Unfortunately, Princess doesn’t seem to mind it.

“I hate you both. Melog is the only creature I tolerate,” Catra informs them from beneath Princess’s weight. Scorpia laughs, but Catra frowns when she notices the tension contained within the sound. She lifts her head from the couch, shooting Scorpia a questioning look. Scorpia winces, looking a bit sheepish as she rubs at the back of her neck. Princess notices too, whining a soft question.

Scorpia is clearly building herself up. Come to fucking think of it, she wasn’t even supposed to _visit_ today. It is Friday. Scorpia usually visits on Saturdays, a calming presence in the middle of Catra having to spend the weekend dealing with assholes at the bar. Scorpia is nervous, hunching over a little bit and shooting Catra a guilty look.

“So, you know how I’ve been texting you for the last few weeks about stuff breaking at the shop?” Scorpia asks her. Catra frowns, but she nods. The Super Pal Trio group chat has been getting frequent requests for Entrapta to come over and fix one machine or another. Entrapta is always happy to help, but getting the parts still costs, and it has been a nuisance. Scorpia sighs.

“I think a poltergeist moved in. She kind of appeared to me last night? Picked up a pen in front of me and wrote _Emily_ on my table. And broke my stove. I’m going to have to call an exorcist,” Scorpia explains. Catra whistles lowly. That is _expensive_ , but so is letting shit just keep getting broken, and there is no telling if the ghost could turn violent to Scorpia, an employee, or her patrons. Scorpia’s tea shop is small, and Scorpia lives in the backroom apartment. She got into fighting in the first place so she could afford to open the place that her mother always wished she could have before she passed.

“You tell Entrapta yet?” she asks. Scorpia shakes her head.

“I suspected, but I hadn’t actually _seen_ anything getting broken or hovering, you know? And Emily has never done anything during business hours, I just wake up and something else is busted. It’s already eating into my savings, and I can’t afford to pay an exorcist outright,” Scorpia explains. Somewhere deep in Catra’s bones, she gets a growing feeling of dread.

“ _Scorpia_ ,” she says, a low warning that makes Princess prick her ears in her lap, suddenly aware something is _happening_. Scorpia winces, looking away.

“It would just be one,” she says, weakly. Catra’s fur bristles, a growl forming low in her throat. Princess and Melog both echo it, Princess glaring at Scorpia and Melog rising from their spot beside Scorpia to nuzzle at Catra’s leg in comfort. It doesn’t do much to calm her.

“It is never _just_ one with Hordak. You’re an established business owner now, Scorpia! Get a fucking loan!” Catra tells her, gesturing a bit violently as she does so. Princess’s growl stutters out as she blinks between the pair, apparently realizing that Scorpia isn’t asking Catra for money. She might just _give_ it to her if it keeps Scorpia from going back to Hordak, retirement savings accruing be damned.

Catra has always been very logical, even after Adora left her and she became _irrational_. She fought until she had enough to buy her house outright, and then she fought until she had a comfortable savings account. It seemed responsible, on top of being an outlet for her anger – build up enough funds to start gathering interest, and then work jobs here and there for spending money now she owned property.

And yet, she fought _more_ while she and Scorpia quietly colluded with Entrapta to get away from their manager. Hordak basically owns the entire underground fighting circuit on Etheria, and getting out from under his thumb once you’re _in_ is a nightmare. They managed it, but now Scorpia wants to walk willingly back into a deathtrap.

Scorpia shakes her head, raising her claws placatingly. “I’m not going to Hordak. I was going to go straight to DT. I could apply for a loan, but it will take too long to clear approval, and then I’ll have to pay it back. If I play my cards right, a single fight is all I need, especially without giving Hordak a cut,” Scorpia tells her. Catra frowns, narrowing her eyes at Scorpia. Fighters – especially fighters like _them_ – can be paid well, but going straight to the ring owner is risky.

“Who the hell would you fight? You’d need one of Hordak’s top fighters to draw enough bets to make the money you need,” Catra points out, still frowning as she fists her hands in Princess’s mane to avoid gesturing wildly again. Scorpia looks at Catra with puppy eyes and it _clicks_.

“Are you _insane_?” she demands in a hiss. Princess starts growling in Scorpia’s direction again and Catra swats her ear to silence her. It works, but Princess grumbles lowly as she nuzzles into Catra’s stomach. Scorpia has the grace to look ashamed, but she pushes on ahead.

“You know the kind of tickets a reunion fight would sell? Hordak would never need to get involved since I wouldn’t have to face down one of his fighters. It would be physically rough, but the resulting cash would be enough that neither of us would ever have to worry again,” Scorpia argues. Catra could counter that she is already _there_. She fought until she had _savings_ , but Scorpia – despite being one of Hordak’s top fighters – never drew the kinds of crowds and bets that Catra did, so she didn’t make as much money during her underground career, and she sunk all of it into getting her shop running.

She knows what Scorpia is suggesting. A true, no-holds-barred fight. Neither of them wants to hurt the other, but they would _have_ to for this fight. Catra can at least get her claws thrown out of play as a handicap to even the odds, given her reputation. It wouldn’t have the _draw_ Catra’s old fights did, though. The draw was watching two people literally tear each other apart. The fights Catra took were brutal. She won them – she won _every fucking one_ – but they weren’t pretty. They were deeply angry and violent.

Scorpia wasn’t that kind of fighter – to Hordak, she was not _of that caliber_. Scorpia drew cleaner crowds, fought cleaner matches. Blood was drawn, but lasting damage was never done. They would have to tell DT to advertise it as that kind of fight, just a heel cleaning up her image with one last fight against a former co-worker. They could do it. Between ticket sales and bets, they would rake in enough cash for Scorpia to call in her exorcist. Catra sighs, looking at the ceiling.

“Is there any way I can convince you to just let me _give_ you the money?” she asks, but she knows the answer. In the corner of her eye, Scorpia shakes her head.

“Sorry, Wildcat, but I’m not taking your retirement fund. You have a good life going here. I’m not going to ruin it. One match, that is all I’m asking,” Scorpia promises her. Catra groans. She knew Scorpia wouldn’t take her savings. They only got out of the game a year ago. Not much interest has accrued and this would clear them out.

“Why can’t you just ask Entrapta? Maybe Darla knows something,” Catra asks. If there is anyone who is going to know how to deal with a poltergeist, it is another ghost – or at least someone who lives with one. Catra tried to unpack Entrapta’s whole dynamic with Darla the first time she visited Entrapta’s home lab, but the best she got was that Darla lived there before Entrapta moved in but never presented herself to the previous residents.

“I looked it up. Darla is a light spirit. She is completely different from a poltergeist. I don’t think anything Entrapta knows will help, and if I tell her, she will want me to keep Emily. Which I _would_ if it weren’t for the whole _breaking and throwing_ _stuff_ part,” Scorpia tells her, motioning with her pincers. Catra groans. Fuck, she hadn’t thought of that.

If there was ever going to be someone to insist they don’t call an exorcist, it would be someone _fucking a ghost_. Entrapta would forgive Scorpia eventually, the girl doesn’t know how to hold a grudge, but it would be best to leave Entrapta out of the whole thing and let her think this is just a run of bad luck. Entrapta doesn’t believe that some ghosts are just made of malevolent energy – but she also doesn’t think that some people are either, and Catra has seen plenty of proof to the contrary of that. Yes, dark magic isn’t inherently evil, but it sure _can_ be.

Catra sighs, running her hands through her hair and already wincing. She doesn’t _want_ to do this, but she would rather do it than risk the poltergeist hurting Scorpia while she waits for a loan.

“I’ll go with you to talk to DT about setting up a dirty boxing match, alright? And if they offer enough of a cut that between the two of us you can afford the exorcist, then I’ll do the fight. We can tell Entrapta that the store is just doing poorly right now with all the broken machinery losing business,” Catra decides, dropping her hands from her hair to gesture vaguely.

In her lap, Princess _whines_.

\--

Scorpia gave her an idea on Friday, and Catra is having a shitty week between knowing a meeting with DT is coming up and some rough shifts at the bar. She leaves for work early on Monday evening, stopping at the pet and familiars store on her way to Huntara’s bar. She buys more toys, but she doesn’t stop there.

Sure, she probably shouldn’t be getting an idea based exclusively on it being funny and maybe a bit degrading, but she doesn’t think Princess will mind. Melog doesn’t, at least. Catra doesn’t show either of them what she bought, shoving her shopping bags into her bedroom immediately upon her return.

On Tuesday, after she finishes making breakfast for the two of them and Princess has returned from her hunt, Catra can’t help but grin to herself as she slips into the bedroom and pulls on proper clothes. She gathers Melog’s harness from on top of the dresser and then pulls out the new collar she bought that she thinks is big enough for Princess based on hugging her. She emerges from the bedroom smirking, a leash in each hand.

“Who wants to visit Entrapta’s ghost?” she asks the room, drawing both her companions’ attention to her. Melog mews happily, immediately bounding over and standing obediently still so Catra can bend and put their harness on. The leash is totally unnecessary, but she has to use it if she wants to avoid getting bothered by strangers when Melog is uncloaked in public.

Princess is wagging her tail, but her ears are pinned back. She looks both eager and conflicted. Catra straightens up, hanging the ridiculous collar from the tip of one finger. It is bright white, the golden rivets on it shining, golden wings framing the d-ring the leash hangs off of. It reminded Catra of her golden goose joke from the first night Princess stayed, and despite being on the more expensive end, she thought it was funny enough to be worth it.

The leash is a gold chain too, to match the silver one hanging off of Melog’s sleek black harness. Their mane is incompatible with collars, so she found a work around, but she thinks it would be _funny_ to put one on Princess.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” she teases, cooing just a little. Princess’s tail goes into overdrive, and she reluctantly trots forward so Catra can buckle the collar around her neck. Catra grins as Princess sends her a withering look. Her tail is still wagging. “You’ll like the car, I promise,” Catra tells her, scratching behind her ears. Princess pants happily as she continues to wag her tail.

\--

Princess fucking _loves_ the car, hanging her head out the window and barking at things as they drive past. Melog flops across the backseat of Catra’s shitty beater of a car, content to lie there and look out the window while Princess has the time of her damn life, her tail wagging constantly. Occasionally, she tries to lick Catra as they drive, and even though Catra knows they are _thank you_ s for bringing her along, Catra fends her off every time. She doesn’t want dog drool in her fur.

Catra has to park a ways out from Entrapta’s place. Parking is scarce downtown, and even when she is able to find it, she has to park further out to find somewhere _free_. Princess doesn’t seem to mind. She happily trots ahead on her leash, Melog hanging back by Catra’s side. Princess sniffs _everything_ they pass. Despite some people clearly finding Princess and Melog cute, they also are given a wide berth. It is obvious they aren’t an ordinary wolf and cat, but to the casual observer it might not be so clear that they are safe.

“Your leash manners are terrible, princess. What is so hard about not pulling? I’m going to dislocate something if you pull again,” Catra tells her when Princess veers towards a sporting goods store of all things. Princess lets out an eager _boof_ and Catra trails behind her, looking up at the models in the window. A few mannequins are set up in a display, all positioned to look as if they are playing football together and dressed in gear and uniforms from local teams. The one kicking the ball is even wearing the jersey from Catra’s high school. Princess looks between her and the display while Catra stares. It takes a long moment to click, and then Catra doubles over laughing.

“You want the ball?” she manages to gasp out between laughing fits, wiping at her eyes as she straightens. Princess looks _deflated_ , ducking her head as she turns away from the mannequin holding the football in the scene. Catra is still snickering, but she tousles Princess’s ears as she tugs on her leash, encouraging her to start walking again.

“It’s okay, princess, you can have a ball when we get home,” she promises as they continue on down the sidewalk. Princess chuffs and returns to sniffing along the ground, her tail a bit limp.

\--

“I thought you swore off fighting forever,” Entrapta questions, clearly confused. Scorpia flinches and Catra sighs, looking down to Melog from her perch atop Entrapta’s big ass data bank. Melog is splayed out beside Princess at the base of the database. Princess is sitting alert, watching Darla’s incorporeal orb float about the lab like a leaf drifting on a river. Darla _can_ fully materialize, especially around the full moon, but it takes a lot of energy, so she doesn’t usually do so.

“Swore off fighting for Hordak. It’s just one last hurrah to cover expenses. It won’t even be a proper battle, just dirty boxing,” Catra tells Entrapta. Entrapta frowns, leaning back in her seat as she thinks it over.

“I don’t think I can help you, then. It would be kind of hard to if you don’t care who wins, anyway,” Entrapta tells them. Scorpia deflates a little, but she nods. Valkyries decide who lives and who dies in battle – a boxing match doesn’t really fall under Entrapta’s ability to sway fate. She _could_ affect Catra’s fights - the whole reason they met is Hordak wanted Entrapta to fix fights for him - but those were brutal matches that resulted in grievous injuries.

“Thought we’d ask you to come along anyway. And we wanted to tell you, in case we go to the match and Hordak is waiting for us. I would want _someone_ to look for my body after it ends up in a gutter,” Catra responds, shrugging. Princess chuffs, finally breaking her vigilant watch over Darla to whip her head up to stare at Catra. Catra waves her off, but it doesn’t deter the wolf. Princess _whines_ , which causes both Scorpia and Entrapta to coo.

“We’ll be _fine_ , princess. We’re not dealing with Hordak, we’re dealing with DT. They aren’t a _scumbag_ like Hordak,” Catra assures Princess. It does not assure the wolf in any way.

\--

They have the meeting Thursday night, since Catra works weekend nights at her legal job. Scorpia arranges it, because if Catra has to deal with DT hitting on her over the phone where she can’t even flash her claws at them, then she is going to break something. That worked fine when she saw them right before fights where she _intended_ to break some bones, but she would like her house to stay intact.

She takes Melog, because of course she does. If you have the option to take invisible backup, you do it. Melog shrinks down to housecat size and hops up on her shoulders as Catra struggles to get her front door closed while Princess tries to fight her way _out_. She doesn’t want Catra to go to the meeting. She spent all afternoon nuzzling her already. Catra gave up fending her off eventually, just letting Princess rub back and forth over her knees.

Now, Princess is trying to come with her, and Melog is doing nothing to help. Catra is strong, but she isn’t _fight a dog the size of a mountain_ strong, and Princess manages to break through the door before Catra can fight it closed, bolting for the car and sitting sentry beside the driver’s side door. The message is clear: she is going to fight her for this one too.

“Get back in the house, princess,” Catra orders, pointing back inside and leveling the wolf with a glare. Princess _snarls_ , her eyes actually fucking _sparking_ and fur beginning to glow like the sun itself beneath the paling evening sky. Catra blinks in surprise at the show of power. It isn't about anger, or even dominance. Princess is showing just how prepared she is to handle herself, hinting at greater power beneath her surface. Catra is not sure what exactly Princess could do in a fight, but the shining could probably distract DT for a few seconds.

Catra sighs and walks back into her house. It confuses Princess, she can tell, but she doesn’t move. Expecting a fake out, probably. Catra just trudges into her bedroom, fetching Princess’s collar and leash. She is pretty sure Princess isn’t giving her a choice in the matter of bringing her, but she isn’t going to risk Princess _lunging_ at someone. She isn’t violent, but she is protective, and though Catra doesn’t need protecting, she doesn’t know how to convince Princess of that.

Princess perks up when Catra remerges from the house, her collar dangling from her fingertips. Princess lets out a short, questioning _awoof_ as Catra approaches, but Catra just rolls her eyes and undoes the buckle.

“You have to _behave_. Stick right by my side, no outing Melog or any personal details, and trust _no one_. They’re all scumbags. Leash manners, princess,” Catra orders as she slides the open collar around Princess’s neck. Princess gives an affirmative _boof_ , wagging her tail as Catra slides the buckle into the correct notch and picks up her leash. Catra opens the car door and Princess jumps inside happily, clambering into the passenger seat while Melog slips into the backseat.

Princess doesn’t ask her to roll down the window, and Catra doesn’t offer. Instead, Princess rests her head on the center console and looks up at Catra the whole way, her eyes wide, pleading, and determined. The look screams _don’t get in trouble, but if you do, I’ll eat it for you_. Catra smirks to herself and ruffles Princess’s ears.

This is going to be an _interesting_ meeting.

\--

It turns out, bringing your wolf housemate to negotiations is a _powerplay_. Scorpia greets her with an exasperated _really?_ when they meet in the parking lot, but Catra just shrugs as Princess hops out of the car and Catra gathers her leash. DT’s guards at the front door are expecting them, but they still do a doubletake when Catra approaches with a hulking wolf, held back by only a thin gold chain.

DT’s reaction is the kicker, once they get inside and are ushered through the dramatic lobby of the theatre. They pass through the stands of the ring already set up for tonight’s match, Princess just barely fitting between the rows of the seating but only deterred by the fact she cannot walk right beside Catra and must instead forge on ahead.

DT’s office is above the ring, overlooking the theatre so they can watch the crowd’s reactions - and make a quick escape if need be. Their deal with Hordak helps keep pressure off them, but they never know when Hordak himself will turn on them. DT whistles long and low when they walk in, despite having seen them approach the whole way.

“I have to say, kitten, bringing a _direwolf_ to threaten me didn’t seem like your negotiation style,” DT greets. Princess growls, baring her fangs the moment DT says the horrid nickname. Catra snaps the leash once and Princess drops the snarl, but the low growl does not _fully_ fade.

“You might not know this about wolves, but they’re _protective_. She insisted on coming along. Unless you have some shit planned, it isn’t an issue for you,” Catra points out as she reluctantly approaches DT’s desk, which is actually a fucking _vanity_ with the mirror punched out. They have hung curtains from the old mirror frame, continuing their dramatic ass motif even into their office. If there is anything DT knows, it is drama and theming. It is what makes them such an effective ring promoter.

DT raises a brow, looking down at Princess with obvious disdain. As far as Catra knows, DT is not a fan of children, animals, teenagers, the elderly – actually, just put _everyone_ on the list. They have a weird soft spot for Catra that she puts down to how desperately they want to fuck her, but even at her lowest Catra wasn’t looking to rebound, and she never would have let someone like DT in her bed.

Catra has fucking _standards_ , and she doesn’t like to be bossed around. She doesn’t correct Princess when her growl rises a touch in response to DT’s look. DT narrows their eyes before scoffing and looking back up to Catra. They have yet to address Scorpia even _once_ , but Catra knows it is just their attempt at a power play. Unfortunately for them, Scorpia doesn’t know how to take a fucking hint.

“So, you want a _reunion tour_?” DT asks, a smile spreading across their face that shows their razor-sharp teeth. Catra is convinced that is not their natural state, but rather a detail they added to appear more unnerving. Catra curves a smirk that shows off her fangs nicely as Princess growls another low warning.

“One fight. Dirty boxing, claws handicap. Just cleaning up my image before I settle in retirement and get lazy. No arrangements who wins between us,” Catra proposes, gesturing back to Scorpia. Scorpia perks up, throwing DT one of her winning smiles. DT _tuts_ , which makes Catra’s fur bristle. She can’t quite fight down her growl, but it is low enough to be covered by Princess’s quiet but _deep_ growl reverberating through the space.

“Kitten, no one wants to see you cleaned up. They want to see you tear through your opponents like paper, like you _used_ to. If you want to make money, have a rematch with Octavia and take out her _other_ eye this time,” DT tells her, shaking their head and sighing dramatically. By her side, Princess finally falls silent as Catra narrows her eyes at DT.

“I don’t need the money that bad, and Hordak isn’t getting fucking involved. Just the two of us, you get all ticket sales and fifteen percent of the bets. Scorpia and I will split the rest,” Catra offers, leaning forward to plant one hand on their desk. Her claws flex out, digging into the wooden surface. “Those are my terms. Even without having the draw of a battle, you’ll make more money not having to give a cut to Hordak. Take the fucking deal,” Catra demands, narrowing her eyes at the shapeshifter.

The thing about DT is that they run a theatre. They love drama and the applause of the audience. It is hard to keep a theatre afloat in the digital age though. DT just wanted to be able to put on whatever show they were passionate about without worrying if it would sell enough tickets to keep the lights on, and Hordak needed a venue that didn’t mind blood. DT loves the high-stakes drama of commentating the matches at night, but they were always here because they needed funds for their passion. DT’s eyes light up a little. They lean back in their seat, steepling their fingers as they mull it over.

“No cage?” they ask, with pouting disappointment. Catra suppresses a shiver. Most of her matches were cage matches. It _wasn’t_ a deathmatch – but it was. You kept fighting until only one of you could walk out on your own feet. The kindest way for a match to end was knocking your opponent unconscious. Early on, when Catra’s matches ended that way, she was _disappointed_. Later, it became her go-to.

“No fucking cage. No-rules boxing with a claws handicap. One night only, take it or leave it,” Catra tells them, pushing back off the table to cross her arms. DT pouts, their eyes darting over to Scorpia. Scorpia just grins and nods. She has her arms crossed too, but on Scorpia it looks less _closed-off_ and more _in need of a sweater_. DT sighs.

“Next Friday. I’ll work the clean-up promo. We’ll be able to court Scorpia’s crowd and some people more in the middle hoping for a bit of violence. Maybe even a few of your old fans will get curious,” DT agrees. Catra grins, feeling her tail sway in delight behind her.

“Deal. Usual time?” she asks. DT nods, pulling out their business card and scribbling something on the back of it before reaching it out to her. Catra takes it, but she sends them a flat look as she does so. DT is undeterred.

“Come for an _early show_ sometime?” DT offers. They already know the answer, even without Princess growling by her side. Catra rolls her eyes as she tucks the card into her pocket. She doesn’t acknowledge the offer. DT isn’t a constant flirt – that is specially reserved for her, it seems – but Catra isn’t falling for any of it.

“Magicats are nocturnal,” she dismisses, snapping Princess’s leash to get her to finally break her stare-down. Catra turns and Princess reluctantly follows as Scorpia trails behind her, out of the office.

“That went well!” Scorpia boasts happily as they walk back through the theatre seating. Catra rolls her eyes and scoffs, but she is smiling to herself as she shakes her head in a bit of disbelief.

“Enjoy having use of your legs for this next week. Things are going to get rough on Friday,” Catra cautions, but despite how much this is going to suck, she is kind of looking forward to the adrenaline. By her side, for some reason, Princess whines.

\--

Saturday is a bad day for Catra. It is the fight coming up, she thinks. It brings back the memories of her time in the underground, rage and blood and _loneliness_. It reminds her of what Adora did to her and what she did to _others_ in return. She wakes up not to Adora’s arms ghosting over her, but to the sinewy texture of Lonnie’s muscles ripping beneath her claws.

Catra bolts upright, crying out and gasping for breath. She is in her bedroom, she is _fine,_ and she hasn’t hurt, maimed -

Melog forces her mind to the dark safety of the forest undergrowth, somewhere she has never been but associates with safety and peace because Melog thinks of it that way. It is somewhere untainted by everything in her own past. Catra draws in a shuddering breath, finally registering the whining and snuffling at the door now the memories are fading. Melog nuzzles into her side, gentle encouragement now it is safe to touch her, and then slips from the bed.

Catra collapses back onto the mattress, her eyes falling closed and shoulders shaking a little, as Melog opens the door and lets Princess in. Within moments, two hulking, magical creatures are on either side of her, laying down and snuggling close to her. It might be crushing and overwhelming if it wasn’t just what she needs right now.

Catra’s breaths are uneven as Princess drapes over her right side, nuzzling against her, while Melog curls on her left, still focusing on the forest, their past and not Catra’s. Catra turns, burying her face in Princess’s thickening winter fluff. Princess wags her tail, apparently pleased to let Catra wipe her _totally dry cheeks_ in her golden coat.

Catra doesn’t have the words for a thank you to either of them, but she tucks an arm beneath each of her companions, feeling her breathing slowly even out and _so fucking grateful_ for the visions of the forest swimming before her eyes, taking up too much of her mind for her to worry about anything else in her unfortunately-detailed memory.

She is going to have to get up eventually and get a workout in, not to mention eat something before work, but for now she settles into the comfort of the two creatures who weirdly seem to care about her. Her cheeks may be – _possibly_ – damp, but at the feeling of the two thudding hearts on either side of her, Catra feels her own chest begin to rumble.

\--

Catra gets Huntara to give her the next weekend off. She has time set aside for the match, and to sleep like the dead on the next three days afterwards. She sets to a training regime immediately. Not that she ever let herself get _out_ of shape, but she also isn’t in the same shape she was a year ago. A few days into training, she can go longer and harder than before, but she still needs breaks. She has just headed inside for a drink of water when she notices an _intrusion_ while glancing out her window.

Sparkles is in her neighbour’s front yard, chatting with the cyclops a few doors down. It takes Catra a minute to figure out where she has seen the woman before, but Catra’s memory is _flawless_ , so she pulls the interaction at the grocery store out of her databank eventually, scowling through the side window. The woman is going fucking _door to door_ , and she is taking notes every now and then as she makes her way towards Catra’s house.

Recruiting for the coven, maybe, or doing some kind of census. From what Catra has seen, her neighbourhood is a hundred percent supernatural, if you count hybrids as an inherent part of the supernatural community. Most don’t, since they are all hundreds of years removed from whatever ritual or cataclysmic event created their species. Catra doesn’t consider herself a part of it, not really. Sure, magicats originated from experiments on witches’ familiars, but she prefers to turn to hybrid support networks than to the coven for assistance with her special needs.

The woman is taking a _lot_ of notes while talking to the cyclops. Catra frowns, glancing into her living room and straight out to the tree line. Princess isn’t home right now. She still leaves regularly to hunt, despite living in the house now. Unlike Melog, she doesn’t seem content to rely on Catra for food.

Catra watches the woman approach her house until she vanishes out of view of the side window. Registering with the coven is optional. It is, at its core, a support and aid group, helping folk with unique needs such as vampires get what they need, and providing a social platform with which to meet others like you. Catra still doesn’t know if there is _pressure_ to be registered for folk who truly belong in the community – specifically, for Melog or Princess.

She likes her area because it is cheap, and has low crime, and everyone minds their own. It comes with the territory of being supernatural folk. No one has ever run to the coven to tell on Melog before, but now someone may have come _asking_. Catra’s doorbell rings and Melog jolts up from their nap as Catra makes her way to the front door.

Melog instantly registers Catra’s anxiety, providing her a calming tether as they slink to the wall and out of sight of the entryway. Catra takes a calming breath, puts on her best bitchface – which is _stunning_ , by the way – and opens her door with a scowl.

“No solicitors, and I’ll decide how I vote on my own, thanks,” Catra greets, gruffly. Sparkles doesn’t even look ruffled. She raises an eyebrow, sending Catra a bitchy look back. Catra sneers a little. She bets a sorceress like her isn’t used to _backtalk_.

“I’m Glimmer, with the Bright Moon Coven. I’m conducting a survey of the area looking for a missing member of our coven. Can I ask you a few questions? It’s important,” Sparkles tells her. Catra feels her bitchy expression fall slightly, twitching just a bit at the word _missing_.

Well, fuck. She wasn’t expecting that, and though she hasn’t seen _shit_ , she kind of feels bad now. No doubt Sparkles - ok, Glimmer, whatever – has gotten a similar greeting from her neighbours. Catra might not know who her neighbours are, but she does _know_ them, and they wouldn’t take kindly to someone poking around the area.

Catra sighs, leaning against her doorframe. This is what a coven does, when it lives up to its promises: it looks after its members, especially supernatural folk who have trouble integrating into larger society. Certain folk the police just won’t bother looking for. If a ghost disappears, sorry, but they moved on to the other side. Just because it is _possible_ doesn’t mean it is likely. A witch could have tied them to an object and trapped them somewhere. Catra knows she can’t help, but she also lost someone once, even if that was Adora’s fucking _choice_.

“I haven’t seen shit, but what do you want to know?” Catra asks, reluctantly. Glimmer blinks at her, offering a kind of hopeful smile as she glances down at her notes.

“A werewolf in our coven has been missing for two months. She lives in her wolf form. We’re conducting a survey in the area around the Woods to see if anyone has seen a large golden wolf with blue eyes. Your neighbour said he has seen her hanging around the area a few times,” Glimmer tells her, squinting at her notes and looking up to make eye contact with Catra.

Catra _loves_ her neighbours. She might bring the cyclops a fucking casserole after this. She will have to learn how to make one, but _details_. Everyone on the damn block has seen Princess lounging on her porch or tussling with Melog in her backyard. The cyclops was hanging out on his own porch when Princess came bounding out of the woods proudly to show Catra the raccoon she had caught. He could have easily turned her in to the coven, but instead he gave them the hope of having _seen her around_ and left it up to Catra to decide what to tell them.

“Yeah, I’ve seen her. First time was the full moon before last. Saw her in the woods just yesterday. Those eyes fucking _glow_ ,” Catra tells Glimmer, glad she is leaning against the doorframe because it makes it easy to sweep her tail out of view so Glimmer can’t see its tip twitching. She is a good liar usually, but this whole situation is _weird_. “What’s her name? I could try calling her over the next time I see her,” Catra asks as Glimmer scribbles a note. Glimmer immediately pauses, glancing up at her.

“Under coven bylaws, I cannot identify any individuals as members of the coven, or even their eligibility status to join. Unfortunately, that includes giving out the name of a missing werewolf. She is just as likely to come to cooing as her name, anyway,” Glimmer tells her. Catra snorts, but that _definitely_ tracks with the Princess she knows.

“Can you tell me how many times you have seen her, and on what days you normally spot her?” Glimmer asks her. Catra narrows her eyes at the woman. She doesn’t want to answer any of these questions without talking to Princess first. The Bright Moon Coven is supposed to be an upstanding organization, but Catra has heard _stories_ about the covens in the Crimson Waste and Arid Plains.

Princess is smart, even if she is _kind of_ a dog, and if she wants to run away from the coven- well, it makes her sudden move-in to Catra’s house after all these years make a lot more sense. Catra just hopes she doesn’t come bounding out of the woods while Glimmer is still within eyeshot. Catra puts on a scowl and aims it at Glimmer.

“You think I know? She has been doing it for seven weeks. I don’t track her. She’s a _wolf_. I’ve seen her on the greenbelt from here to the woods a few times, and she’s gone sniffing at the yard before,” Catra tells Glimmer, glaring the woman down. It is hard to do when she is hardly an inch taller than Glimmer, but she has bitchiness on her side. Glimmer narrows her eyes at Catra.

“Magicats have eidetic memories,” she points out. Catra actually hisses at the woman. It isn’t exactly true, the term was made for humans with unusual minds and not her race, but the fact is magicats have unusually long and detailed memories, with much higher tendencies towards being photographic. Catra _does_ have an eidetic memory, but Glimmer doesn’t need to fucking know that.

“It’s hard to sort through it all and find a pattern when I remember every moment, not just significant ones. I’ve seen her around, she definitely killed a raccoon once, and that’s what I know,” Catra tells her, scowling. Glimmer opens her mouth, but Catra really can’t risk more questions.

“And _all_ magicats don’t have eidetic memories, that’s a fucking stereotype. You know how much that sucks for those of us who don’t? We’re considered _stupid_ ,” Catra grumbles, putting all the bitterness she feels towards most of humanity into her words. Pulling the insensitivity card on someone whose job is inclusion is likely to get her left alone.

It works. Glimmer stumbles over herself apologizing, saying she _knows_ that, just that she also knows their memories are sharp, and Catra manages to keep her face artfully blank and disinterested as she waves the woman off. From deeper in the house, Melog sends waves of smug pride out. Glimmer eventually leaves, and Catra collapses on her couch with a heavy sigh, staring out into the tree line apprehensively. She swears she sees glowing blue from within the underbrush, but Princess doesn’t approach.

\--

Princess doesn’t return that night. It _shouldn’t worry Catra_. It still does. She fixes dinner for herself and Melog in grim silence, and then does a run out to her hybrid supply store. She refreshes her furcare supplies and asks the vulpes working there a few questions about what lycans buy. She ends up with a special brush for Princess to help deal with her winter coat and two new chew toys. She considers buying Princess treats, but she doesn’t give Melog treats because she worries about them being bad for their race, and she doesn’t want to give Princess special treatment.

She wants Princess to be there when she gets back, but she isn’t. Catra heads to her bedroom with a feeling of dread and loneliness creeping into her limbs. Everyone fucking leaves her. She doesn’t even know why she is surprised. She doesn’t know why she is _upset_. No one should have this much sway on her after two months.

Catra takes an evening shower just to distract herself and _doesn’t_ sigh in relief when she shuffles out of her bedroom to find Princess sitting at her back door, looking across at her with guilty puppy eyes. Catra crosses the living room quickly, opening the back door and narrowing her eyes down at the wolf as she slinks inside. Catra closes and locks the door before she turns to Princess and hisses at her. Princess pins her ears back and tucks her tail even further between her legs, but she doesn’t shy away like she used to, instead edging closer and cautiously nosing at Catra’s hand.

Catra’s claws are out, but she pets her anyway. Without really meaning to, she sinks to the floor and wraps her arms around her scruff. Princess lets out a soft whimper and nuzzles her head down onto Catra’s back, her tail starting to wag behind her.

“I know you were avoiding Glimmer, but I was fucking _worried_ , okay?” Catra tells her, because werewolf or not, she is more _wolf_ and it is easier to say things to an animal, even one she knows is intelligent. Princess gives a pathetic whine and wriggles her head against Catra’s back as if to pull her in closer. Catra forces herself to breathe normally as she buries her face in Princess’s fur, which smells distinctly of the woods again. Catra swallows and pulls back from her spot in Princess’s mane.

“Come on, you’re all tangled. I got you a brush when I went out,” Catra tells her, not looking down at the wolf while she tussles her ears.

\--

Catra spends two goddamn hours brushing Princess. She doesn’t need it _that_ bad, but Princess lays on the couch and obediently shuffles around to reposition herself appropriately as Catra brushes out her thick coat. Dawn is approaching rapidly by the time Catra finishes.

“My ex used to do this for me. I don’t need it like you do, but it always felt nice. I see now why she enjoyed it too,” Catra tells Princess conversationally as she brushes her tail. It isn’t as nice as _getting_ brushed, but it is kind of soothing. Maybe it is just from the relief of having Princess here again. Princess whines sadly, looking over her shoulder to shoot Catra one of her kicked puppy looks. Catra rolls her eyes and returns to Princess’s tail.

Catra eventually finishes brushing Princess’s coat out, and then spends awhile just cuddling into her softened fur. They should talk about the coven, but Catra is tired, and she would rather wait until morning than risk driving Princess off again.

When Catra heads into her bedroom, Princess trails after her, stopping just outside the door. Princess goes in the laundry room now, though she always leaves Catra’s clothes alone. She broke into the toy cabinet once – with Melog’s help, Catra suspects – but other than that she is well-behaved. Catra hesitates as she begins to pull off her clothes.

“Come in, princess,” Catra calls before turning her back to tug off her top. She doesn’t turn as Princess enters the space cautiously, moving slowly and snuffling at the air as she does so. Catra told her that the bedroom is off limits, but she also let Princess into it without hesitance the day she needed it. Catra strips down to just her underwear, too tired to go fetch pajamas. Melog has never minded Catra sleeping in her underwear, at least.

While she tosses her clothes in the hamper, Princess cautiously snuffles at the edge of her mattress. Catra smiles to herself as she crosses the room, reaching out to pet down Princess’s back. Princess immediately lifts her head, seeming to pause upon spotting her lack of clothes, but after a moment of hesitance she nuzzles forward into Catra’s side. The soft fluff feels good directly against her.

“You can get in the bed, if you want,” Catra prompts her. Princess wags her tail, perking up a little at the news. Catra rolls her eyes. Ridiculous. It isn’t like her couch is _uncomfortable_ , and it has to be a hell of a lot better than wherever Princess was sleeping in the forest.

The couch still isn’t the same as sleeping with someone, a comforting presence at your back. Catra collapses onto her mattress, tucking beneath her blankets as Princess cautiously follows. Melog curls into a ball on one of Catra’s pillows, shrunk down to the size of a housecat so they can benefit from the extra bedding. Princess thuds her tail against the mattress in a heavy wag as she settles beside Catra.

Catra rolls her eyes, reaching over to tousle her ears before she goes limp against her bed. Catra lets out a soft sigh of contentment as she relaxes into the warmth of Princess at her back. They fall asleep like that, cuddled together.

\--

Catra wakes with her back to Princess, and a very _human_ arm wrapping around her waist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Entrapta is a ghostfucker. As a Valkyrie, she is more connected to the souls of the dead than your average human would be.  
> DT prefers to put on shows from little-known playwrights, but they also do love the drama of commentating the fights. There are some story elements (all courtesy of DT's embellishments), but really they are just fights. There is nothing scripted about what happens in the theatre after-hours.


	4. Interlude II: To-go order

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extremely short little interlude, but when I get a dumb dog idea, I do it.

Going to visit Entrapta is _fun_. The journey is at least, even if her attempt to signal the truth to Catra with the store window fails. Once they arrive at Entrapta’s, Adora is stressed. She hates this plan of Catra’s, even not understanding all the details of it, and the ghost makes it hard to think. Darla is a light spirit, and her energy makes Adora’s fur itch. Adora’s curse is a light spell. Too much magic of any kind in one place throws off the balance. After visiting Darla, her thoughts are feeling very human, and thus hard to fit in her head.

She whines and shies away from a car honking at them as they cross the street. She is not pulling on her leash now, because Catra asked her not to and her brain feels scrambled. She is sticking close to Catra’s side, blindly following the pull of the leash around her neck as they make their way back to the car. Catra is her leader, and it is easier to just follow her direction than force thoughts herself.

Catra frowns, looking down at Adora as she walks, and shifts so both leashes are in one hand. She pets the top of Adora’s head. It feels good, animal, better for the pathways her brain has built right now. The human thoughts hurt, the worry and concern and love, all pounding in her head. Adora nudges into the hand gratefully as she plods along Catra’s side. Melog is on the other side, watching her with bright eyes, wanting to help but they _can’t_.

Adora’s mind just doesn’t fit into her body right now. Neither does her heart. She wants Catra to take them home, where it is just them. It is where they are going, but they can’t get there fast enough. Familiar territory will help. Adora is relieved when they reach the car and Catra opens the side door for her.

“Alright, princess, let’s get home. I know downtown can be overwhelming. It stinks to me too,” Catra tells her, petting Adora’s tail once she hops in the car. Catra tucks her tail under her haunch to keep it out of the way before she slams the car door shut.

Adora is overwhelmed, but it has nothing to do with the scents of downtown.

\--

Catra doesn’t drink coffee and she never has. It isn’t compatible with magicats, a small amount enough to get them wired. Catra doesn’t even own any coffee, but on the way home she pulls into a coffee shop drive-through. Adora gives a low bark, the best _why_? she can manage in this form with Catra not looking at her. Catra snorts, rolling her eyes as she pulls up to the ordering window. She looks amused.

“Don’t worry, princess. I’ll get you something too,” she promises before turning to look out her rolled-down window. Catra doesn’t buy a coffee, instead getting herself a tea and ordering a _puppochino_. Adora doesn’t understand, not until they pull up to the second window and Catra is handed a steaming tea and a cup of whipped foam.

Catra parks the car in the lot, sipping her tea in one hand while tilting the small cup in Adora’s direction, holding it steady for her. Adora glances at Melog, hoping for a sign, but Melog just looks on from the backseat, uninterested in the white cream. It smells sweet, and Adora snuffles at the cup cautiously. It is too _small_ for her to really smell inside, and she is forced to lick her tongue in to test it.

Catra lets out a borderline-disgusted giggle at the way Adora begins to eagerly lap up the foam once she realizes it is _good_. Likely it is just because Adora licks her hand a lot in the process. Catra _never_ lets Adora lick her, so Adora tries not to, despite desperately wanting to show Catra her love. Catra is letting her now though. Adora is a bit messy on purpose, just to give herself a reason to clean it up.

“How do you have this much slobber, you’re _gross_ ,” Catra tells her, but she is still laughing as she wipes her wet hand off on Adora’s shoulder. Adora pants at her happily, proud of being able to give Catra love the way her body understands right now.

She feels better, more settled. Her brain is no longer fighting her body. She is with her pack, heading back to their den. The constant ache of Catra is in her chest, but it is eased by her presence, even if she still can’t hold her how she truly wants to.

\--

Catra has a nightmare. Adora smells the spike of panic in the bedroom and bolts up from where she is sleeping, splayed on the floor in front of the doorframe so Catra has to acknowledge her when she wakes.

Adora wants to break down the door, pawing at it desperately, begging to be let in to comfort her. If she wasn’t banned from the bedroom, she _would_ bust down the door, but she can’t break a rule when Catra is already vulnerable. She whines, pleading and sad, just wanting to be _there_ for her. There is so little she can do, often feeling helpless, but she can at least offer physical comfort if Catra will let her.

Catra remains in the bed, but Melog lets her in. Catra doesn’t even look towards the open door. Adora is not waiting – her lack of a reaction is permission enough. She goes bounding across the room, climbing into the floor mattress and nudging into Catra’s side. She whimpers at Catra’s distress, wagging her tail hopefully as Melog mirrors her position on Catra’s other side until they are both curling around their pack leader.

Catra’s worry lessens. Her breaths grow easier, and she even wraps her arm around Adora as she evens out from her panic. Catra nuzzles into her fur and makes no protests when Adora nuzzles her back.

\--

Catra lets her in the bedroom, in the bed, with _her_. Adora ran, but Catra is forgiving her. She wants to go to sleep with Adora pressing against her back. Adora’s chest feels bursting, her head pounding, her only thoughts _love, love, love_.

She never said it, before. Not even once. It was a dangerous curse word in Shadow Weaver’s home. She couldn’t risk saying it to Catra, even if Catra said it to her once, a last whisper before a dying breath that never came. Catra recovered, and Adora swore she would tell Catra her feelings one day.

The beast came before her courage did. Adora curls around Catra in the bed, protecting her, and dreams of the last time they were able to lay in bed together and sleep, sweat drying on their skin and love shown in action, if not words.

When she wakes, Catra is staring at her.


	5. 3. I loved you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This universe has light and dark magic, but it’s not a “good and bad” thing and more about balancing give with take. Combat magic, for instance, is dark magic, but shifting and healing both take light energy. Every living creature has lifeforce, which does replenish after being drained, but the speed of the recovery depends on the individual and their species. Folk have more and recover more quickly.

Catra wakes with an arm around her waist and soft breaths puffing against her neck. Another dream of Adora. She doesn’t _want_ to open her eyes, to let the dream dissipate and her day to turn to shit. It is a good dream, warmth spreading through her limbs with the fleeting feeling of comfort and love. It feels so real this time, not merely the ghost of a presence or touch.

The arm around her waist tightens, and she feels a body press tighter in against her back, neither of which are things that have happened in the few hazy moments between sleep and wakefulness where she hallucinates Adora. Catra draws in a breath, feeling her ribs expand. The arm around her follows the up and down movement, twitching closer around her.

 _Princess_. She was in her bed last night, and despite having invited the wolf in, the arm around her does not belong to an _animal_. Catra’s eyes fly open and she looks down.

A human arm is wrapped around her waist, its owner curled tight around her back like an octopus and snuffling as she rubs her face in the back of Catra’s short hair. Her bed partner is asleep, or at least dozing based on her heartrate, beating steadily at Catra’s back. Catra _may_ have gotten far too comfortable with Princess. She was a wolf and she had been for so long. Catra had denied to herself the fact there was a human deep-down inside her.

There is no denying it now, not now said human is pressed against her and slowly stirring. Catra’s heart is hammering. She turns a little to look over her shoulder and is met with blue eyes blinking open in hazy confusion. Catra registers two things at once.

Her first thought is _Adora_ and her second thought is _naked_. The sheets are pooled down by their waists – Catra is very aware of Adora’s current _state_. She stares, feeling her heart hammering, drowning out any sound she might pick up. Adora’s throat flexes a little and her lips part, indicating she has made _some_ kind of noise, but the tirade of emotions within Catra drowns it out as Adora, apparently still hazy, tugs Catra closer.

Catra does not squeak – she _doesn’t_. Her brain just isn’t really processing anything right now beyond _Adora_. The noise seems to make some light of awareness creep back into Adora’s eyes. She blinks down and seems to notice her _own_ arm now.

“Oh,” she breathes, softly. Catra has regained the ability to hear, and has also processed the fact that this _definitely_ isn’t another hazy partial-dream that dissipates the moment she moves. This is _real_ , Adora pressed up against her, back in her bed. All Catra can think is about is how this is how she _should_ have woken up five years ago.

Catra snarls, rolling away and _shoving_ Adora harshly back when she tries to follow.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, you _cunt_ , sneaking back after _half a fucking decade_?” Catra demands, her voice enraged and shrill. She isn’t screaming, but the anger, the heartbreak, and the utter betrayal are all flooding in, causing her skin to feel clammy as rage burns fire-hot in her heart. Anger was the only thing she had left after she watched Adora scramble to pull on her clothes, so eager to leave she couldn’t even sneak out while Catra was asleep properly.

“ _What are you doing?”_

_“I- I have to-“_

And then she was gone, out Catra’s bedroom door. Catra had hardly scrambled up to stand before she heard the front door slamming shut and then Adora _running_. She didn’t even risk waiting for the elevator, fleeing down the building’s stairs. Catra sobbed in her living room for an hour, waiting for Adora to turn around and come back, before eventually switching to her bed to cry for another _two_.

Adora never came back. She abandoned her, all their future plans in tatters. They were supposed to go to college together. Instead, Catra tore through every person who dared step into the ring with her. All that rage is back now, shaking through her as her fingers tense, prepared to claw and scratch. Adora stares up at her, half-sat up on the bed, naked and crying, her tears silent as they roll down her stunned face.

“ _Get out_. I don’t want to see you,” Catra tells her, voice breaking as she gestures violently to the bedroom door, her left hand clenching in a fist. An instinct she honed as a fighter informs her that claws have dug into her palm, but she feels fucking _nothing_ but rage and self-hatred. “You don’t get to- to come crawling back-“

Adora is having a panic attack, staring up at her as her body involuntarily curls inward, hunching down, and Catra can see her eyes beam in the dim morning light. She is shifting back. Catra saw Lonnie do it enough times in the ring to recognize it, and it is a strong reminder of how Adora got in her bed in the first place.

“Don’t you fucking _dare_ ,” Catra actually _cries_ , leaping down to grab onto Adora’s shoulders and sending them sprawling. They nearly roll right into Melog, a mental spike of distress hitting her from her companion she has been paying _no_ attention to as they come to a halt with Catra pinning Adora by her shoulders and straddling her hips, holding her in place, keeping her from hunching to all fours.

Adora’s blue eyes are locked with hers, tears still running silently from them as the glow does nothing to dim, but at least her body isn’t curling inward anymore, warping her into the wolf, who has been living in Catra’s house for a month, never once becoming human despite clearly being _frustrated_ with her lack of words or hands at times.

The last time Catra saw Adora, she was a failed sorceress, Shadow apparently _wrong_ about the magic she sensed from her chosen apprentice. Adora was never able to create so much as sparks, a completely ordinary human, and certainly not a _werewolf_. The light in her eyes is growing in intensity again now as her breath comes in sharp pants, her shoulders jerking forward under Catra’s hands-

Catra surges forward, slamming her eyes shut as she presses a desperate kiss against Adora’s lips. Adora gasps against her and Catra seals her mouth over the blonde’s, one hand staying to pin her shoulders down as the other hand slides up into her hair, threading through it and _tugging_. In their one night together, Catra discovered that Adora loves that.

Stress causes shifting. This is the fastest she can assure Adora, the quickest shortcut to _stay_ she knows. Lonnie would shift when she grew threatened, reverting to animal instincts. Catra is relying on lust and love being _human_ emotions that keep Adora from shifting back. Adora whimpers beneath her, gasping for breath. Kissing someone having a panic attack isn’t _great_ , but she needs to keep Adora how she is, and she doesn’t know how else to anchor her. She needs Adora to stay human so she can tell her that she didn’t leave just because she didn’t _want_ her anymore.

“Stay. Stay, please, Adora,” Catra begs, kissing her again when Adora draws in a sharp breath. Adora turns her head away from the second kiss, gasping for air, and Catra opens her eyes to find Adora still staring at her even as she gasps. The glow is finally fading. “I’ll- I’ll hear you out, just _stay_ ,” Catra pleads, clutching desperately at Adora as her own tears return, silent and cloying as they run through her fur.

A calm hum enters the back of her mind. Catra blinks, breaking eye contact with Adora to find Melog standing on the bed beside her, dipping their head to nose lightly at Adora’s arm. Their mane is black and agitated, shifting and occasionally spiking, but they _force_ calm into Catra’s mind, anchoring her as feeling slowly seeps back into her limbs.

They also reminded her that Adora wasn’t a werewolf before, even if Catra’s panicked mind didn’t pinpoint the origin of the thought at the time. She swallows, throwing them a watery smile before looking back to Adora and realizing there is sticky black blood smeared in her hair. Catra cut the palm of her fisted hand in her rage, and now the blood is smeared behind Adora’s ear.

Catra untangles her shaking hand from Adora’s hair as Adora’s eyes slip shut. Catra doesn’t dare move or get off of her, still afraid she will vanish, but she can see the fear in Adora’s face too even as she tries to calm her breathing. Catra swallows, bracing her bleeding hand on the sheets beside them and ignoring the small twinge of pain as she slides her good hand up instead to stroke along Adora’s cheek.

Adora’s eyes are dull, blue like Catra remembers them, unnatural but no longer glowing as they slip open and she nudges into Catra’s touch with a soft whimper. She hasn’t spoken yet, and Catra remembers _years in the woods_ and wonders if she even _can_ talk now. If she can, she is far too panicked to speak right now.

“Shh, it’s okay. Just stay calm for me. I can yell at you later. I believe you owe me a morning of naked cuddling,” Catra tries, her voice shaking along with her limbs. Her heart is still hammering, even if the adrenaline is fading now that some measure of rationality is returning to her. Her mind is already racing to justify everything now it seems like there is a chance that Adora didn’t just _choose_ to leave her. Whatever caused her to run that night, clearly she got bit and couldn’t control her form afterwards.

Adora opens her mouth, closes it, and then just nods, her expression desperate and pleading. Catra lets her shaking arm give out, collapsing down against her. Adora’s unsteady arms wrap around her back.

\--

For a while, they are in no shape to talk. Adora clings to her, even after Catra tips them so they are lying on their sides, pressed together from collarbone to ankle. Catra has her face tucked into Adora’s neck, breathing her in. Occasionally one of them has their breathing speed up, a panic attack beginning again, but the other soothes them with gentle hands. When Catra panics, Melog nudges their nose against her back, staying steady to the best of their ability while Catra’s mind just wants to spiral.

Melog keeps flashing images of times Princess was affectionate with her. They show her moments where she mentioned Adora to Princess and she _wilted_ with guilt. Catra hates it, but she kind of needs it too. It makes it easier to push down the overwhelming emotion and argue with herself to just hear Adora out once she can speak again.

“I love you,” are the first words Adora manages to say, a hoarse whisper as she clutches Catra so tightly it _hurts_. She is expecting Catra to push her away again, trepidation rolling off her. Catra kind of wants to hit her. She also wants to kiss her. Instead, she whines and presses in tightly to Adora’s neck, her claws digging in where she clutches at Adora’s shoulders. Adora clears her throat.

“I loved you, then. Now,” she adds. Her voice is still rough, but it sounds a little stronger. Catra is crying silently again, wiping her tears on the side of Adora’s neck as they come. Her chest wants to constrict, but she can’t let it. She has to have the air to ask, to finally _know_.

“Why did you _leave me_?” she manages in a broken whisper. Adora whines, long and sad and _just like Princess_ , clutching at her as she tucks her nose down into Catra’s hair, breathing deep for a long moment as she finds her words.

“I’m cursed. I panicked when I felt the beast coming on, ran. Didn’t know what was happening and didn’t want to hurt you. I don’t know how long it was before I could think again, after. Just a wolf, for a while,” Adora tells her, voice growing steadier with use as she remembers how to speak. Adora draws in a deep breath. “I tried to find you once I could think. Couldn’t. You moved,” she adds.

That is what breaks Catra, what forces her to pull back from Adora’s neck. Adora’s arms tighten around her, trying to keep her close, but Catra isn’t _leaving_. She shifts up, kissing Adora again, for real this time now that neither of them is gasping for air. Adora lets out a soft sound and kisses her back, as clumsily as she did five years ago when she moved into Catra’s apartment.

They never dared much more than a lingering touch before then. Catra turned eighteen before Adora, promptly kicked out of Shadow Weaver’s home. She found a dirt-cheap apartment she still couldn’t afford and just waited for Adora to turn eighteen in the new year.

Adora has, probably, gotten worse at kissing since then, but even Catra is willing to admit she might have looked back on that day with shattered rose-coloured glasses. It was a beautiful, shining thing compared to the misery that came after, and Catra’s memory was not made for capturing sensations. Even if her memory has failed her, Adora has not had a human mouth in a long time, and Catra will forgive her clumsiness with it. She doesn’t _care_. Adora’s pulse is pounding beneath her hands as she strokes her cheek, slides her hand into her hair-

Catra pulls back, blinking at the tangled and somewhat matted mess on the side of Adora’s head. She didn’t think she bled _that_ much. It stopped while they were clinging to each other, but now she turns her hand and stares at the four crescents carved into her palm. There are numerous scars in the exact same shape there, but these are fresh and angry.

Adora catches her hand with her own, turning it around so she can look at it herself, her eyes widening as they land on the damage Catra did by accident. Catra feels her ears pin back.

“I didn’t feel it. I’m fine. Your hair-“ Catra cuts off, eyeing Adora’s hair. She hasn’t cut it in five years – actually, _six_ , given the year before she vanished, and though it is untangled aside from the part matted with Catra’s blood, it has grown longer, descending well past her shoulders. It looks a bit wild, beautiful but scruffy like her coat had been as a wolf. Adora blinks her confusion to Catra.

“We’re going to have to work on using words again, _princess_ , but for now let’s- just get cleaned up, okay? You’re naked,” Catra points out. Adora blinks, immediately looking down at herself. Her ears turn red as she realizes she is, in fact, naked. Adora smiles shyly up at her as Catra carefully stands and then reaches down to offer Adora a hand. Adora takes it to pull herself up. She hovers just behind Catra, not releasing their intertwined hands, as Catra leads her into the closet and opens the set of drawers inside where she has kept most of Adora’s things.

Adora draws to a halt, blinking down into the drawer. This one is entirely clothes, the only drawer Catra ever really opened in the last five years, seeking comfort even in the sadness. Catra has hated this chest of drawers for years. Now, she looks between it and Adora, standing beside her, and thinks _whatever it takes_. She is keeping Adora this time, and if Adora’s opinion on the matter differs, _too bad_. She chose to come back – if she ever knew Catra, she knew what she was getting into.

“Don’t you ever run from me again, you hear me? I don’t care what you shift into next, you aren’t going to hurt me by doing anything except _leaving_ again,” Catra tells her, voice gruff as she drops Adora’s hand to reach down and grab one of Adora’s t-shirts and a pair of her old sweatpants. She doesn’t look Adora in the eye as she shoves the clothes into her hands.

“Okay,” Adora breathes, softly, her voice heavy with sincerity. Catra flicks an ear, feeling herself flush, but she doesn’t look up to meet Adora’s eyes. There is a long moment of silence. “Do you hate me?” Adora asks, her voice the quietest it has been yet, as if she is afraid to voice the question. Catra sucks in a breath, biting the inside of her cheek. The pain from the points of her fangs is grounding.

The day Adora left, Catra entered a spiral. For years Shadow Weaver told her she was unwanted and unloved. Shadow Weaver saw her as an inconvenient accessory to Adora that she at least could use the lifeforce of to reanimate her husks. Adora leaving her seemed to confirm every self-hating instinct Shadow Weaver drove into her, etching the word _worthless_ into her lungs until she breathed it out like a curse under every breath.

Catra has hated herself for the last five years for not being enough. Now Adora is back, now Adora says she loved her and always did, Catra can’t hate her. She may hate herself still, but her heart is hammering to believe she was always wanted, always loved. She knows it won’t be simple to accept Adora’s words, but she _wants_ to. All she has ever wanted was to be loved.

“Did you have a choice in leaving me? In not coming back?” Catra asks, despite how she doesn’t want to. She still has to _know_. She needs Adora to lay it out for her if she is really going to start believing it. Adora makes a distressed sound extremely similar to the ones Princess used to make and steps forward, holding no regard for the old clothes Catra used to cherish as she just _drops_ them to wrap Catra in her arms, cradling her in against her chest. For a moment she is silent, swallowing and drawing a deep breath to prepare to speak again.

“ _No_. I know I hurt you. Saying it now won’t change the last five years, but I never wanted to leave you. I was always trying to get _back_ to you,” Adora tells her, eyes as pleading as her voice as she looks down at her. She is still pulling Catra close against her bare chest. Catra swallows, staring up at the raw emotion on Adora’s face, all those years in the wilderness wiping away any semblance of a mask she ever had. Catra’s next breath is shaking.

“I hated you. I can’t just undo that heartbreak. It damn-near killed me. It drove me to do horrible things, things I don’t even want to tell you,” Catra tells her, her throat flexing. Adora flinches and bites her lip, nodding and maintaining eye contact despite how Catra can _see_ she is wishing she could turn away to cry. Her hand shakes as she raises it to stroke Adora’s cheek.

“Keep saying it. I _want_ to believe you always wanted to stay, but it is going to take a while to sink in,” she manages, too raw and more than she wants to admit, but she just _wants_. Every fibre of her being wants to believe in the girl she has been in love with since she was a small child. She doesn’t know if she ever truly hated Adora. It was easier to think that, but she never really placed the blame on Adora for leaving – at the time Catra had known down to her bones it was _her_ fault for not being enough.

“Show me otherwise. Fight my brain for me. I never want to wake up without kissing you good morning, okay? I still- I still _feel_ ,” Catra adds, trying to inject some humour in her voice at first, but it comes out a little too cracked to be anything but honest. Adora’s face sets with determination like she has been given a critical mission. It might just be, if they are ever going to get back to being _them_ again. Catra’s heart flutters a little as Adora nods, her expression embodying conviction.

Catra tries to offer her an encouraging smile. It must work, because Adora jolts forward, freezing mere inches from kissing Catra when Catra draws in a sharp breath and pins her ears back. She doesn’t _want_ to lock up, it just happens, her body bracing for a hit with the sudden approach. Adora looks to her, questioning. She thinks she is overstepping, probably, despite Catra kissing her twice already.

“Ask first. I’m trained for fights now,” Catra tells her, squeezing her eyes shut and praying that doesn’t trigger an avalanche of memories of all the shit she told a wolf over the last two months. She doesn’t want Adora to infer just how fucked up her career has been since she left her, not yet and preferably not _ever_. There is a moment of silence. Catra fully expects Adora to pull away.

“Can I kiss you?” Adora asks, gentle and soft. Her voice is no longer rough, starting to grow accustomed to being used again. She doesn’t pull away. Her tone makes it clear she is expecting a _no_ , but it isn’t a no.

“Please,” Catra breathes. It takes another moment for Adora to believe her, but then Adora’s breath is puffing soft against her face as she leans in slow and pauses, waiting for further permission. Catra just tilts her chin up, sealing their mouths together and feeling her body untense as Adora slowly, cautiously meets her.

It kind of feels like a first kiss. Maybe because they have just laid out where they stand, maybe because some part of Catra’s heart is rioting with joy over the fact that Adora loves her, or maybe just because Adora was the one to start it this time. It doesn’t matter – it feels like more than a kiss. It feels like a promise, like the beginning of their relationship again. When they part, Adora tilts her head to touch their foreheads together. Both of them are breathing a bit _excessively_ for the simple kiss, but they just hold each other in the closet, wrapped up together.

“Girlfriends, again? I promise you I’ll earn it,” Adora breathes to her. Catra’s throat flexes as she lets out a sharp breath, tears threatening to overwhelm her, but she forces them down. They still have to talk about whatever the hell is up with her curse, though Catra is certain Shadow Weaver has something to do with it, but Adora knows how important promises are to her.

“Girlfriends. And you fucking better. I’m not above keeping you on a leash,” Catra swears to her. Adora flushes, her gaze darting to the side, unable to meet Catra’s eyes so close together. Even as a wolf, Adora had been conflicted about the leash. Catra can’t imagine how she feels now, but she means every word. Adora loves her. Adora is _hers_. She isn’t allowed to leave again.

In the back of her mind, Melog points out that Adora is standing on the old t-shirt Catra used to cry over. Catra doesn’t give a shit, not now she has the real thing against her, but it does remind her once again that Adora is naked. Catra clears her throat, nudging her nose against Adora’s cheek until Adora reluctantly pulls back, looking down at her with obvious disappointment, but she doesn’t look like she is on the verge of crying now she knows where they stand.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Catra tells her, sliding her hand down to take Adora’s and tug her gently toward the bathroom. Adora smiles, small and hopeful.

\--

Adora has changed over the last five years. _Obviously_ , she is technically a different race after the curse, but it isn’t just her usually large and blue eyes, shining with hidden power. She has grown taller, their previously-negligible height difference now a few inches, and the lines of her body filling out. She is no longer toned and now absolutely _cut_ , carved ass and flexing thigh muscles on display as she bends to inspect Catra’s furcare supplies. Her hands are clumsy as she reaches for them, shaking a little and knocking over the other bottles as she reaches for one of the products Catra has been using ever since high school.

“Knocking shit over is Melog’s job, Adora,” Catra points out from behind her. She is perched on the edge of her counter, a clean towel folded in her lap for when Adora finishes, but she has yet to _start_. At the mere sound of her name Adora shivers, looking back over her shoulder apologetically.

“Sorry. Takes time to get used to my human hands. I usually shift back before I can manage it,” Adora tells her, looking ashamed as she tries to put back up the bottles she knocked over. She knocks off _more_ bottles in the process, but Catra is busy having different thoughts at the moment.

“Shift back?” she asks, because she was under the distinct impression Adora has been a wolf this whole time and suddenly the doubt is creeping in again. Adora flinches, turning away from the bottle display, still in disarray. She shoots Catra an anxious look as her hands twitch a little at her sides.

“Glimmer, the sorceress who came by? She found me… Two or three years ago. She has been trying to break the curse ever since, but it’s hard not knowing what it is. She can make me human again for a few hours using the magic from the full moon, but that is it. I told her everything I could the first time she managed it, and she helped me look for you, but we couldn’t find you,” Adora tells her, words a bit of a rush when she has them, drawing to a halt at other times as she searches for the bridge between her thoughts and her tongue.

 _That_ explains the visit from Glimmer then, though not quite why Adora was avoiding her. Adora is biting her lip, looking imploringly at Catra, and Catra can feel her anxious energy pouring out. She doesn’t think Adora is really up to explaining more right now, not without growing frustrated at her own inability to talk.

Adora looked for her. Adora didn’t want to leave her. She reminds herself this as hurt flares in her chest, demanding answers. Catra can wait a _day_ to catch up on five years. Adora is clearly struggling, and she doesn’t want to add to her anxiety. She slips off the counter, forcing her emotions down, ignoring all her rage and anger.

She places the towel on the counter, padding over to the shower Adora has been struggling in. Adora draws in a breath, holding stock-still as Catra pauses by her side, placing a light hand on her back for a moment and sending her a small smile to assure her before she bends down to gather the bottles and rearrange them on the shelf they were laid out on.

There is plenty of room in the shower for a stool, something she used heavily during her fighting career. She _had_ been keeping it on the outside of the shower and setting things on it ever since she stopped really needing it, but now she steps out of the shower and knocks aside the bottles set there with no regard for where they end up. She gathers the stool and sets it in the center of the shower as the extra supplies roll away on the bathroom tile.

“Take a seat, Adora. I’ll take care of your hair, okay? Just keep calm for me,” Catra tells her, returning to her side and stretching up a little to press a kiss to her cheek. _Somehow_ , Adora is human right now, and she doesn’t want her panicking again and shifting back. The tension in Adora’s body seeps away as she nods, sending Catra an apologetic smile as she dutifully follows orders.

“I can take care of it. Or leave it. I’ve had blood in my fur plenty of times,” Adora protests weakly, but she also doesn’t dare disobey from sitting on the seat, sending Catra the kicked-puppy look she has grown accustomed to. Catra rolls her eyes as she plucks the shower head out of its holder. She aims it at the ground while she turns on the water and waits for it to warm up.

“I’m washing your hair, Adora. Deal with it,” Catra orders, because _Princess_ was always good at following instructions, and honestly, so was Adora when she was trying desperately to be the impossible thing Shadow Weaver wanted her to be. She did everything she was told to, she just couldn’t do what Shadow _wanted_.

Adora falls silent, though she seems reluctant. Catra does her best to wash out Adora’s hair, but it is not as healthy as it once was, wild and a bit tangled. Washing away the blood doesn’t do much to help the mat that has formed there.

“You could cut it?” Adora offers, voice so small Catra almost misses it over the sound of the water. She pauses. Adora’s hair has grown _long_ , but this matt is just behind her ear. Five years could change a lot, but Adora always loved her long hair. She was oddly _proud_ of it for reasons Catra never understood, but also silently agreed with.

“You wouldn’t look good bald, Adora,” Catra returns. Adora snorts, leaning into her hands, seemingly unconsciously. Catra strokes through her hair, eying the matt as a thought occurs to her.

“It’s stuck. I want to be human. No more fur. Can I shave?” Adora rambles out, even as she melts a little from Catra stroking through her hair. Catra frowns, looking down at Adora. She loves feeling her hair be played with and pulled. Adora never shaved before, and she used to laugh when Catra complained about humans’ weird obsession with looking like lizardfolk, but she understands the urge to distance herself from the prison of a body she has been locked in for the last few years.

“I don’t own a razor, but I can get one brought over. How about I put your hair up while you get more comfortable so you can be sure that is what you want? Take it from me, it takes awhile to grow back,” Catra tells her, bending to press a kiss to the top of Adora’s head. Adora lets out a soft breath, some of her tension slipping out with it, and nods.

Catra reluctantly leaves her to go get one of her old hair ties. Part of her fears Adora shifting back the moment she leaves the room, but she hears nothing alarming from the bathroom as she snags the brush she bought for Princess. Adora gives her a withering look when she returns to the bathroom with the brush, but it _works_ and Catra gets the tangle worked out. She dries Adora’s hair with a towel, carefully putting it up in a ponytail for her.

Adora breathes easier as she takes the towel and dries herself off. She outright _whines_ when Catra slips from the room again, which makes Catra’s heart jump a little as she fetches her phone from where it is charging on the floor beside the bed. Melog lifts their head from the pillow, blinking at her as she squats down.

“It’s going well, buddy,” she assures, even though Melog already knows that. Melog butts their head into her hand, and Catra absently pets them as she texts the Super Pal Trio group chat that she needs someone to deliver a package of razors to her house in the next ten minutes and not ask questions until she figures out the answers.

Scorpia tries to convince her not to shave anything while Entrapta takes the hyperbolic timeline as a _challenge_ for her new delivery bot.

\--

Entrapta’s drone makes the timeline just barely, and Adora shaves while Catra fixes them breakfast. Melog stays in the bathroom with Adora, just to assure Catra that Adora is still here and also hasn’t knicked herself and bled out on her bathroom tiles. Catra doesn’t like Adora leaving her sight – truthfully, Catra doesn’t like being out of _touching_ range – but it is also well into the afternoon and they are both starving.

Apparently Adora nicks herself quite a bit, but she emerges from the bedroom dressed in her old clothes, her ponytail bobbing just like it used to, and Catra doesn’t cry, she doesn’t even _almost_ cry. Adora is just super touchy – like always – and decides she has to cradle Catra against her chest for no reason while she whispers she loves her.

Their breakfasts get a bit cold – well, Adora’s and Catra’s do, Melog eats theirs while Adora is still pressing kisses against the base of Catra’s ears – but Adora still murmurs “ _salt_ ” reverently when she finally eats hers, apparently rediscovering the joy of spices. Catra’s diet allows some spices, but only in mild amounts usually, and she left it out completely from Melog’s and Princess’s meals when she could.

“It’s time for your training, isn’t it?” Adora asks her softly, after breakfast. She had to screw her face up for twenty seconds before she managed to force the words out, but once she has figured out how to speak again she manages them all at once. Catra blinks at her, feeling her ears twitch. The fight is in two days, and yeah, she needs to practice, but she kind of has way more pressing shit right now.

Like Adora _literally_ pressing against her, her arms looped around Catra’s hips and eyes intensely blue as she looks down at Catra. Catra swallows, meeting those dimly glowing eyes, and finally asks the question she has been terrified of all morning.

“If you’re cursed, how are you human right now?” she asks. She is kind of scared that today is some kind of spell threatening to break at any moment. Adora blinks, surprised by the question, and then shakes her head. She gnaws on the inside of her cheek and sends Catra a distressed look.

“I don’t know? I’ve never been human without Glimmer’s ritual. I just woke up with you. And I almost shifted back, so the curse isn’t broken,” Adora manages, sending Catra an anxious look. “I only lost myself the first time I shifted, Catra. Even if I shift back, I’ll stay. This is where I want to be,” she assures, quickly, a little breathless with her words. Catra considers that, glancing over to the clock.

“Should I call Glimmer? You know I don’t like sorceresses, but I can’t- Adora I _can’t_ wake up to find you gone again,” Catra tells her. Adora whines, her face knitting with distress as she cradles Catra close.

“Don’t know her number,” Adora admits, shaking her head a little before tucking it down into Catra’s hair and nuzzling into her scalp. Adora always had a few mannerisms she picked up from Catra, but even more animal instincts seem to have taken hold during her time as a wolf.

“Well I _do_. She left her business card when she came looking for you,” Catra rebukes. Adora lets out a breath, squeezing Catra tighter for a moment before releasing her and sending her a hopeful smile. “You want me to call?” she asks. Adora pauses and then nods. She follows Catra as she goes to fetch the card and then settles on the couch to make the phone call. Adora immediately hauls Catra into her lap, but Catra hesitates before she dials the number.

“Before I call - why were you hiding from her? Couldn’t she have told me it was you?” Catra asks, fighting to keep her voice even. Adora huffs, not dissimilar to Princess’s chuff as she focuses on a random spot on the ceiling while she fights for the words.

“She didn’t know to tell you. I didn’t want you to be alone, and I worried she would say my name casually and you would hate me for sneaking back. I was going to go to her on the full moon and come back to you as human when I could _explain_ ,” Adora tells her, wrapping her arms around Catra’s waist again and tugging her closer. Catra frowns at her, because the logic does not seem _super_ logical to her- “I told you, I think different as a wolf. That was where I got. I just couldn’t leave you alone for a week,” Adora adds.

Catra sighs, but she nods as she looks down at her phone screen to type in the number. She knows Adora can explain herself better, but not right now. Adora tucks her nose in against Catra’s pulse point as the phone rings before eventually being picked up.

“Glimmer, heir for the Bright Moon Coven-“

“I found Adora,” Catra cuts in. She is met by a sound similar to a small child spotting a balloon animal maker at a fair. Or maybe one of those balloons getting a hole poked in it and going shooting around the room.

“Where is she? Who is this? How-“ All the eager momentum on the other end of the line draws to a halt as a cold realization seems to hit Glimmer. “How do you know her name is Adora?” she questions, a cautious edge there, like she thinks Catra is _holding her for ransom_ or something. Catra rolls her eyes and holds the phone up to Adora. Adora looks anxious, but she leans forward to the earpiece.

“Hey, Glimmer. I’m ok-“ The balloon noise is back. Catra rolls her eyes as she takes the phone back and rattles off her address.

“I’m on my way right now. I already have my car keys. Put Adora back on,” Glimmer tells her, excited ramble kind of jumbled. Catra feels her tail twitch. She is glad _someone_ knew where Adora was and cared, but sorceresses unnerve her.

“She is having trouble talking. I was hoping _you_ could talk for her to fill in the blanks. We’re just trying to figure out how she is human right now,” Catra informs her. She _feels_ the hesitance coming down the line. Adora leans forward, and Catra reluctantly tilts the microphone up.

“I’m fine. It’s hard. I would appreciate help explaining,” Adora relays. Glimmer makes a confused noise, but she sighs.

“Okay,” she agrees, hesitance _clear_.

\--

Glimmer arrives at her house thirty minutes after the phone call, pounding on the door and causing Catra to growl in annoyance as she pulls herself from the _deep_ make out she and Adora were engaged in. Just because Catra still wants more answers doesn’t mean she wants to deprive herself further of the one thing she has been craving for years. Adora seems to agree, growing steadily more confident with her lips and her _tongue_.

She growls with displeasure herself as Catra pulls away. It makes a small smile quirk at the corner of Catra’s mouth. Melog stands, shaking their mane out while Catra crosses to the front door. Melog follows behind her, unsure because _Catra_ is unsure, standing behind her legs and peering out around them as Catra opens the front door and is greeted by a sparkly sorceress so anxious she seems to be _vibrating_.

Normally, having someone anxious around her does not make Catra feel _good_ , but this time it eases her, because it means Glimmer _gives a shit_. Catra has issues, alright, and a major one is not trusting sorceresses. Glimmer throws her a hopeful smile, extending a hand for her to shake.

“We didn’t get properly introduced last time. I’m Glimmer. Thank you for looking out for Adora,” Glimmer tells her. Catra doesn’t take her hand – that’s how you get _cursed_ or something, thanks – just rolls her eyes as she takes a half-step back so Glimmer can come inside. It forces Melog to shuffle back, still looking up at Glimmer as they do so, and drawing Glimmer’s attention to them. She blinks down at them in blatant surprise.

“I have your business card, I know your name already. This is Melog. And I’m Catra,” Catra tells her, nudging Melog with her foot. They are far too big to be hiding behind her like this, but they follow her silent command and turn to run over to the couch, hopping up on it with Adora. Not that Catra _thinks_ Adora needs guarding, but Catra also knows that she can take care of herself, so she is more worried about Adora. Glimmer halts and Catra can practically see the gears turning in her head as she looks up from the spot where Melog was to make eye contact with Catra.

“Catra? As in- _Adora’s_ Catra?” she asks. Catra rolls her eyes, opening the door the rest of the way and stepping aside since Glimmer didn’t take the hint the first time. Glimmer just continues to stare at her, her eyes sweeping and appraising as she takes Catra in.

“Do sorceresses need an invitation like vampires? You’re wasting my air conditioning,” Catra points out, jerking her head deeper into the house. Glimmer’s brows knit together, but she finally steps inside, and Catra closes her door behind her, waving vaguely towards her living room. “Have a seat. Maybe between the two of us we can fill in the blanks,” she says, already breezing past her guest to return to Adora.

Glimmer finally spots Adora, visibly relaxing at the sight of her as Catra crosses to the couch and flops into Adora’s lap again. Adora’s arms immediately come around her and she tugs Catra closer, humming slightly as she looks up to send Glimmer a smile.

“My Catra,” Adora clarifies for her, and Catra’s fur absolutely _does not_ stand on end in response. She does blush though, there is no denying it, not when Adora notices and releases a soft, excited sound, leaning in to kiss her cheek. It doesn’t help Catra’s blush fade, her tail lashing with her fluster. They have an _audience_ , but Adora does not seem to care as she nuzzles down to press another kiss to Catra’s jaw.

“ _Adora_ ,” she admonishes, still blushing furiously. Adora pulls back, grinning down at her for a moment before she looks up to Glimmer and beams at her expression. Glimmer has an _affectionate_ look on her face as she moves to sit in one of Catra’s mismatched armchairs. Catra doesn’t have much furniture, but what she does have is a bricolage of second-hand store purchases, free curb-pickup items, and maybe _not_ free curb-pickup stuff, but if it is unattended Catra considers it free game. As a result, nothing in her living room matches, but she couldn’t give a shit either way.

“Last night I let Adora sleep in my room as a wolf, and when we woke up she was human. We’re trying to figure out _how_ , and I would like a refresher on the last five years. She is having trouble stringing her words together,” Catra tells Glimmer. As she explains, Adora rearranges Catra in her lap until her back is against her chest so Adora can wrap her arms around her and hug her from behind, hooking her chin over Catra’s shoulder and smiling at Glimmer. Glimmer watches the whole thing happen, seeming amused as Adora turns her head to press a quick kiss to the corner of Catra’s jaw, causing her to flush again and whip her tail against Adora in chastisement.

“We can swap histories later. Adora has never been able to tell me much about you other than your name and how desperately she needed to find you before she shifted back,” Glimmer tells her. Catra frowns at her, but that tracks with Adora’s reactions this morning, and it at least puts them on somewhat even footing regarding each other. Glimmer visually scans Adora, like her secrets are going to be written across her skin.

“I’m more concerned with how she is human right now. She has never managed that without a ritual, and I haven’t performed it in awhile considering she was _missing for two months_ ,” Glimmer chastises, narrowing her eyes at Adora. Adora hunches down a little, as if to hide behind Catra, and throws Glimmer a sheepish smile over her shoulder.

“I was going to come to the Moon Ritual next week. It rained last time and Catra let me inside the house for the first time. The month before that was the night I found Catra,” Adora tells her, explanations and excuses. Glimmer frowns, looking to Catra. Catra sighs.

“I lied when you came by before. I wasn’t going to out her without talking to her first. It seemed like she had chosen to run away from the coven,” Catra tells her. Glimmer has the nerve to look annoyed, which causes Catra to narrow her eyes at her. “If she wanted to go, she was capable of making that decision herself,” she snaps out.

Adora raises a hand, running it down Catra’s arm. Catra forces herself to take a breath, letting the action soothe her as she relaxes into Adora’s arms. Glimmer at least looks a bit apologetic, nodding as she looks between the two of them.

“I need to bring Adora back to my mother’s lab for evaluation to know what the current status of the curse is,” Glimmer says. Catra immediately pins her ears back, feeling her tail lash.

“Absolutely not. You know what being in a sorceress’s lab again is going to do to Adora? Panic makes her shift back, and that is going to throw her right into flashbacks,” Catra denies, firm and maybe a touch aggressive, but she is not losing Adora again. If finding out her _status_ makes her shift back, it isn’t worth it. To her shock, Glimmer draws in a sharp breath at the same time that Adora _shrinks_ behind her, tucking her face in against the back of Catra’s neck.

“ _Adora_ ,” Glimmer questions, her eye damn-near twitching, “why didn’t you tell me you had been experimented on by a sorceress? _”_ she demands, sounding incensed, though she isn’t _sparking_ or anything at least. Adora’s arms tighten around Catra as she peeks out from behind her.

“I kept shifting back before I could,” she says meekly, her voice rough – rough like it had been this morning when she had first shifted. Catra turns around in Adora’s lap to find her eyes glowing, no longer with the soft, constant light that Catra is starting to acclimate to, but burning and vibrant.

Catra frames Adora’s face in both her hands and kisses her forcefully.

\--

“I can’t believe that’s _working_ ,” Glimmer says in astonishment after a grounding de-stress make out. Adora’s eyes are their unnatural blue again, no longer beaming, as she wraps around Catra’s back. Catra is fixing lunch – human-schedule dinner, whatever – but Glimmer is passing her the ingredients as Adora kind of traps her in front of the stove, apparently unable to breathe air without Catra against her, or at least unwilling to try.

“Love is different, as a dog. And I never felt desire. Human thoughts keep me human,” Adora argues, pressing a kiss to the base of Catra’s ear. Catra flushes, but she lets Adora give her whatever affection she wants. If it keeps her here, she can deal with the embarrassment.

(It has nothing to do with the fact she fucking loves it.)

This morning, Catra had felt a tirade of emotions, and then a bit hollow when they passed. She had expected to struggle more with her long-standing heartbreak, even knowing the truth now – and she _is_ , don’t get her wrong – but with every hour that passes it becomes clearer and clearer that Adora _really was stuck_. She fucked up running that night, but she had done so out of fear for Catra.

“That’s how normal lycanthropy works, not _curses_. Stress should have nothing to do with your shifting,” Glimmer rebukes, raising an eyebrow as she leans against the counter and crosses her arms. Adora sends her a _you think I know?_ look as Catra shrugs off her arms so she can bend to put in the roast chicken. Adora waits until Catra is finished and has checked the temperature gauge before she-

 _Picks her up holy shit_. Adora was strong before and she _could_ pick Catra up, but it is effortless now as she lifts Catra princess style – the irony isn’t lost on her – and beams at having her in her arms. Adora doesn’t even need to sit down, she just moves over to the counter and leans against it facing Glimmer, Catra still blushing in her arms. Her ears and tail are twitching, but she is having a _moment_ here. Adora notices her expression, her eyes softening.

“I wanted to hold you so many times over the last two months, but I _couldn’t_. You wouldn’t even let me lick you,” Adora tells her. Catra’s heart does a weird little flip in her chest. She turns her face away, coughing into her hand to cover her fluster. In the background, Glimmer is laughing at her. Whatever, Glimmer _wishes_ she were Catra right now. Adora holds her so securely, cradled in against her chest, which is reverberating softly with her pleased hum. Adora smiles down at her with a soft, fucking _besotted_ expression.

“I’d rather you lick me _now_ than as a dog,” she returns. Adora’s eyes darken, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as she draws in a breath to respond, but Glimmer cuts in before she has the chance to say anything.

“Seriously, Angella does need to have a look at you, especially after what Catra said,” Glimmer points out. Ah, and there goes the mood, utterly shattered by the reminder of Shadow Weaver. Catra didn’t give too many details, worried that hearing it spoken would trigger enough stress for Adora to switch back, but she told Glimmer enough about the would-be apprentice situation, as well as how Shadow Weaver used both of them to supplement her rituals.

She drew from Catra’s lifeforce often, but from Adora she took her magic, drawing out her light energy to make up for Shadow Weaver’s meager supply of the magic. Every person, creature, even _object_ has magic flowing through them, but only folk generate it themselves. Adora’s seemingly endless supply only convinced Shadow Weaver further that she was right about Adora’s power and it incensed her when Adora failed all her magical tests.

“Seriously, if she steps foot in that lab she is going to have a _panic attack_ , and I won’t be much help in calming her in that situation. What, did you fucking muzzle her to get her in there last time?” Catra asks. She is met with silence. Catra turns to stare up at Adora incredulously, and finds Adora carefully avoiding eye contact. “ _Really_?” she hisses. Adora shrinks down into her shoulders a little, which is impressive considering she is still holding Catra.

“We didn’t have another choice? And we don’t now, either. You have to leave for work in two hours. I’ll go to Angella’s lab while you’re there, and even if I revert, the full moon is in a week and hopefully I can _stay_ afterwards,” Adora tells her. Catra snarls. She fucking hates this, but Adora is right. Catra doesn’t know shit about curses, and she doesn’t know if Adora being human is secretly _draining her lifeforce_ or something. Catra deflates in her arms, nuzzling in under her jaw and marking her, feeling anxiety pound in her chest.

“I’m going with you and dropping you off. And if they fucking hurt you, I’ll slit their throats,” Catra tells Adora, pressing a kiss against her cheek. Glimmer looks mildly disturbed while Adora makes a sound that is downright _touched_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A coven heir is an actual position in a coven with its own rules and responsibilities (much like a princess), and not just Glimmer being pretentious lol


	6. Interlude III: Five years ago

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First (very brief) scene involves Shadow Weaver, so just all the SW warnings for that, and she’s mentioned throughout.

“I am your mother,” Shadow Weaver reminds her, harshly, but Adora hasn’t been training her body just to haul around corpses for her guardian, and she easily yanks her arm out of Shadow Weaver’s grip.

“You _were_ my mentor, but it turns out I’m not going to be anyone’s apprentice. If you wanted me to stick around after I turned eighteen, you should have treated Catra better,” she returns, already darting away as Shadow actually _snarls_ and makes a grab for her. Several of her shadows from around the lab turn on Adora, but even reanimated it isn’t hard to outrun the dead.

She already has her duffle bag slung over her shoulder, packed with the meager clothing and belongings she gives a shit about and hasn’t managed to sneak out to Catra yet. It is not hard for her to outrun her feeble mentor and her risen dead. She bursts from the basement lab out onto the main floor of the mildly-dilapidated mansion, and then out onto the street.

When she looks down the street, Catra is already waiting for her on the corner underneath the streetlamp there. The sun hasn’t even risen on Adora’s eighteenth birthday yet, and technically she won’t be eighteen for another seventeen hours, but legally her foster guardian has no sway over her anymore.

She sprints down the street, straight into her girlfriend’s arms.

\--

Catra turned eighteen nearly three months ago. It has been _hard_. Shadow Weaver has done her damn hardest to keep them apart after Catra’s birthday hit and she kicked her out. She claimed if Catra had not fought her so much, if she had been obedient, she would have been willing to keep her like she is Adora, but they all knew the truth. She never wanted to foster Catra in the first place and was afraid of the sway Catra has over Adora. She feared Catra would convince Adora to leave when she turned eighteen.

She was right to worry. It would have happened anyway, but the day Catra darted from the home with nothing but a backpack and Shadow Weaver’s husks on her heels, Shadow Weaver sealed her own fate. Adora was never going to stick around for a second if Catra wasn’t there too. They had only dared to meet for a few moments here and there at school, but it was enough for them to plan this over the weeks.

 _This_ being Catra ushering Adora onto the back of the bike she “ _found_ ” – Adora is fairly certain she stole it – and taking off down the hill from the Old Neighbourhood into town. Adora finds herself whooping as they go, a feeling of elation spreading through her body as they leave the disheveled, gothic architecture behind in favour of the quickly-urbanizing streets of Bright Moon proper.

Catra’s apartment is a piece-of-shit, hole-in-the-wall that she won’t be able to afford in a year when this neighbourhood is revitalized, but right now she can work part-time at the bookstore down the road and scrape by on school lunches and mutual aid from the local hybrid coalition. Adora will get a job the second she is able, and hopefully together they can make it work until they go to college and have their meals included in their need-based aid.

They pull up to the shitty brick building and Adora helps Catra wheel her bike into the elevator as they both beam at each other, barely containing their excitement at finally being free and _together_.

\--

The longest part of moving in isn’t even unpacking Adora’s meager things, it is Adora rearranging _Catra’s_ clothes into a colour gradient so she can be sure of what she has, Adora’s things nestled amongst her own, because neither of them have truly drawn a line on what belongs to the other aside from things with hips too narrow for Adora to wear and tops too loose in the chest on Catra.

When they finish, the apartment tour concluded and everything settled, Catra throws her a cautious smile and leads her to the couch. They settle beside each other at first, but Catra bites her lip and throws Adora a hopeful look, scooting a bit closer, and Adora-

Adora has been in love with Catra for probably a decade, even if the _realization_ only hit her the moment she was nursing a dying Catra back to health after one of Shadow’s experiments failed catastrophically and she nearly drained all of Catra’s lifeforce containing it. Catra had clutched her hand and thanked her for fighting Shadow on resurrecting her if she didn’t make it.

And then Catra said she loved her before passing out again. Adora only realized the depth of her own feelings in that moment. She hadn’t wanted to leave Catra alone anyway, but after that she never strayed from her bedside the whole time she was recovering. She didn’t know if Catra had enough lifeforce smoldering somewhere in her chest to catch ablaze again, but it _did_.

Soon she had Catra back, and though they never addressed that night in words, they both knew from how they changed their behaviour towards each other afterwards that they were together. Shadow Weaver claimed Catra recovered _unusually_ quickly and speculated perhaps Adora’s specialty was life magic, but when she started testing Adora for that – again, because she already tried when Adora was twelve, too – Adora failed, like with every other school of magic.

The tests and failures are over now. Catra is safe, and _they_ are safe to finally do this. Adora reaches a cautious hand out and places it on Catra’s knee. Catra draws a sharp breath, her ears perking forward, clearly attuned to Adora’s cautious movements. Adora licks her lips before she leans forward, pressing a soft kiss against Catra’s cheek.

Catra huffs and grabs the collar of her shirt, pulling her in for a real kiss that has Adora melting against her. Within moments, Adora gives up on caution and lets her body do what it wants, because having Catra against her is _electric_.

Adora’s body wants to haul Catra into her lap and kiss her like she has been drowning without her air, so she does. Catra meets her with just as much passion.

\--

They alternate between making out and whispering their plans and fantasies to each other, voices low because it is _intimate_ and not because they fear being overhead. They can never go long before they are tilting their mouths together again, kissing long and slow, fast and hungry, and a dozen other ways in-between.

Eventually, the sun begins to set and Catra pulls back, looking out the window and _giggling_. Fuck is that a good sound, one Adora has not gotten to hear all that often despite spending their entire lives together. She is determined to draw it out as often as possible now. She reaches up to stroke Catra’s cheek, intending to guide her down into another kiss, but to her surprise Catra catches her hand, kissing her knuckles and looking at her with eyes shining with mischief, affection, and anxiety.

“We’ve spent all day kissing, Adora,” Catra tells her in a low voice, a smile that makes Adora’s gut clench spreading across her face. Catra must detect the change in her because some of that anxiety fades, the light in her eyes sparkling as her grin grows. “You want to do anything _else_ today, Adora?” Catra questions, her voice low and breathy.

Adora’s mouth goes dry as she wordlessly swallows. Yes, yes she does, she wants nothing more than to spend the rest of her life touching and tasting Catra in every way she can. Catra grins at her speechlessness, leaning back and slipping out of her lap. She guides Adora to stand with their intertwined hands, leading her into the bedroom.

At the edge of the bed, Catra pauses, turning to her and biting her lip. Her nerves are as obvious as her excitement. Adora decides to take the initiative, stepping forward until they are chest-to-chest and kissing Catra softly, one hand cradling her jaw and the other wrapped around her waist, holding her close. The kiss is long and slow, but there is a _heat_ there now Adora knows that Catra feels as ready for this as she does.

They have been holding back for a long time. Adora just wants to love Catra in every way she can now. They part for air eventually, leaning their foreheads together and holding one another close. When Adora opens her eyes, she finds Catra already watching her. They are too close together for Adora’s eyes to focus, but magicats are naturally near-sighted, so Catra can probably make out her expression. Catra still pulls back far enough to make proper eye contact, meeting Adora’s eyes with soft hope and vulnerability.

“Make love to me?” she asks, her voice soft and small. The brimming _hope_ in her makes Adora shiver as she leans forward, kissing Catra firmly. She finally lets her hands skim down over her sides.

“ _Please,_ I want to,” she breathes, and then Catra’s face is breaking into a relieved smile and she is pulling Adora down into the bed with her.

\--

Neither of them has done this before. Neither of them is _good_ at it, but Catra doesn’t seem to give even half a shit, sighing with contentment and arching into Adora’s touch. Skill doesn’t matter here – this is about love, about _them_ , and she gets Catra there eventually, and Catra gets her there _much faster_ given all the buildup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small note on comments – I was always spotty on it, but I’m going to stop responding to them pretty much entirely. I found trying to do so has made me way too stressed. I’ve been deleting the comments mentioning/asking for more updates as soon as I get them because they just feel so shitty when I’m already posting multiple times a week, but once I found myself considering turning comments off entirely to prevent having to deal with them, I knew it was time to change how I approached them. I will read all of them like I always have, but I’m going to check them less frequently as well.


	7. 4. To be human

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel the need to say I wrote this chapter in December – the Silver Raids were intended as a part of the story from the beginning.  
> I’m envisioning a southern plantation-style house for the coven Nexus, but of course the words “southern plantation” don’t exist in Etheria, so I can’t really describe it that way.  
> Coven leadership is passed down in a family unless there isn’t an heir or the coven as a whole decides to vote out the current leader. A coven’s Nexus is part community space, part offices, and part private home for the leader. For the Bright Moon coven, the home’s top story is private to Glimmer, Angella, and Castaspella, plus their staff.

“You dragged a snarling and muzzled wolf through here?” Catra asks, incredulous, as she follows Glimmer up the sweeping steps that lead to the coven Nexus’s porch. The house is grand, three expansive stories with wrap-around porches at every level. The porches and balconies are lined with white _columns_. Catra can’t imagine an unwilling wild animal being here.

“She wasn’t muzzled then. We didn’t know she would have that reaction. We invited her here to help her, but she couldn’t speak to warn us. We had to make a magic muzzle after we got her inside and mentioned the lab,” Glimmer explains. Adora hunches into her own shoulders a little by Catra’s side, seeming embarrassed. Considering Catra’s instincts are telling her to give the same reaction, she doesn’t blame Adora. She squeezes Adora’s hand as they make their way inside.

There are people everywhere, despite the late hour. Glimmer gets several waves as she passes, but people really _stare_ at Adora, eyes beaming as she holds Catra’s hand, and at Catra, holding Adora’s collar and leash in her other hand just in case Adora shifts and needs to be tethered. People seem a bit offended by the collar, but that isn’t their business. Catra has seen people walk werewolves on leashes before anyway, sometimes it just _happens_. Glimmer had outright wrinkled her nose when Catra brought out the collar, but she hadn’t said anything.

Adora’s eyes have been glowing ever since they arrived at the Nexus, but when they reach the door into the lab they _flash_. Catra quickly plasters herself into Adora’s side, dropping her hand to instead wrap an arm around her waist. Adora closes her eyes, drawing in a slow breath, and then looks down at Catra-

Her eyes _die_. All the glow snuffs out instantly and Adora blinks down at Catra as Catra stares back in surprise.

“Feeling better, Adora?” a light voice asks from behind them. Catra’s fur bristles at the realization a spell was just put on her girlfriend, turning to glare over her shoulder at, probably, the absolute last woman she should piss off. Catra knows who Angella is – it is hard _not to_ , even avoiding folk business – but despite knowing her appearance, she was not quite prepared for the raw magical power of her presence. Adora turns to look over her shoulder at Angella, sending her a sheepish look.

“Much, thank you. Can we, uh, get this over with?” Adora asks, shifting a little awkwardly against Catra’s side. Angella nods sagely, sweeping past them to place her hand on the door. Runes ghost over its surface for a moment, and then the door swings open. Angella turns back to face them both, smiling down at Catra.

“I am Angella, Glimmer’s mother,” Angella introduces herself, like Catra couldn’t put that together from the fact Glimmer looks like her fucking _miniature_. Catra can’t help but find it odd that she doesn’t introduce herself as _hey, I own this house_ , but maybe she is stuck up enough to assume that is a given and Catra will know who she is. She is _right_ , but still.

Glimmer has her hand swept out towards the lab, a clear _come inside_ gesture, but Catra can’t help but be wary. Adora gives a false start forward but stops immediately when she feels Catra’s arm, still wrapped around her, tighten. She halts, glancing down at her hand and then looking up to send Catra a questioning look. Catra is too busy narrowing her eyes at Angella to return it.

“Pretty sure it is illegal to cast a spell on someone without prior consent. What did you do?” Catra questions, unable to keep the outright suspicion out of her voice. Accusing the most powerful woman in all of Bright Moon – both political and magically – of breaking the law probably isn’t _smart_ , but Catra has never been above threats, and she cannot believe Angella would do that to Adora with all her history. Angella raises an eyebrow at her.

“Adora gave me express permission to perform the spell whenever needed and has yet to revoke it. It is merely a balancing spell to help her magical energies stay in equilibrium. The curse is a light magic spell that seems to drown out her dark energies,” Angella tells her. Catra stares at her, and then shifts her eyes to Adora. She just nods, sending Catra a cautious look like she is seeking approval.

Catra doesn’t know how Adora can be okay with that. Shadow Weaver was magically skilled but _weak_ on her own and would use both of their lifeforces to supplement rituals. Even if it is necessary to control the curse, Catra can’t imagine it is comfortable for Adora. Catra sighs, looking back to Angella.

“As long as she can _talk_ and it isn’t urgent, ask first. Adora is terrible at standing up for herself, take it from me,” Catra tells Angella. Angella looks a bit startled at that, and yet she was unphased by Catra’s earlier threat. It tells Catra a lot about the kind of woman she is dealing with. Angella’s eyes dart to Adora, clearly questioning, but Adora just continues to _exist_ next to Catra. Catra sighs.

“Adora, your opinion?” she prompts, looking up at her girlfriend with exasperation. Adora blinks down at her. She didn’t realize Angella was prompting her, which isn’t shocking to Catra given her social skills _before_ she spent five years as a dog. Adora looks up to send Angella an almost shy look.

“Don’t, please,” is all she manages, but Catra squeezes her arm around Adora’s waist and stretches up on her toes to kiss her cheek in reward regardless. Adora seems to breathe a bit easier, leaning down into the affection, as Angella gives her an appraising, almost guilty look.

“Glimmer called ahead regarding your past exposure to a sorceress’s experimentation, but we need to discuss it more fully. It opens up a number of possibilities about your condition far beyond a curse,” Angella settles on saying, gesturing into the lab. Catra and Adora both suck in twin breaths, leaning into each other for support as they enter into the scene of most of their childhood nightmares.

\--

It turns out sorceress labs are not created equal. Shadow Weaver’s was in the basement of a mansion Catra is certain she was _squatting_ in, the building in tatters around her. The lab wasn’t in better shape, and dark magic pooled there from Shadow Weaver’s rituals. The stench of death was a constant, even if Shadow Weaver’s spells kept her risen husks from deteriorating further.

The basement was dark, dank, and desolate. In all of their fifteen years in that house, Catra didn’t have a single happy memory in its walls. She was often only in there to be drained or comfort Adora while Shadow Weaver drained _her_ or just totally failed to teach her magic. The verbal barrage Adora underwent for _failing_ , for _not concentrating_ , for _not putting in effort_ was as damaging as the one Catra went through for daring just to be and to _fight_.

They both walked out broken in different ways. They both dread walking into Angella’s lab, expecting flashbacks and unease, but the space is different. The lab is clean, beautiful and elegant, with crystals and fucking _scented candles_. The magical apparatuses around the room and the lingering scent of ritual ingredients in the air makes Catra’s fur itch, but it isn’t much worse than walking past an apothecary.

They do a quick and dirty evaluation of Adora’s condition while Catra is there. Adora is, apparently, still under the effects of magic, but _not_ cursed, despite that being the consensus of her condition for the last three years.

“The magic is so powerful it is hard to read its design or purpose. It is also ancient and does not follow the same laws found in most modern magic research. We long assumed a bloodline curse, but this could be a spell she was born under the effects of that was mutated by this Shadow Weaver’s tampering,” Angella informs Catra as she holds some kind of blown-glass instrument full of shimmering liquid to Adora’s heart and watches the patterns formed by its swirling.

“We need to do a detailed evaluation and determine if there are multiple spells. It will take awhile, but it puts us far ahead where we were before,” Angella’s assistant adds in. The Castaspella woman unnerves Catra a little. She is bit harsher in temperament than Angella is, which is ordinarily _fine_ by Catra, but when it comes to someone experimenting with magic on Adora, she would prefer they were as fluffy as candy-floss if possible.

Adora doesn’t seem too bothered by her, at least. Adora has known all these people much longer than Catra has and is relaxed, even if she needs to actively spend mental energy on keeping herself steady right now. Angella puts her magic goo jar away, waving her hand to summon a piece of paper and fountain pen from a nearby table. They hover into the air before her so she can take notes. Catra will give her the use of magic is not truly superfluous given that all the tables in the room are the height for a normal human, and thus rather low for her, but the fountain pen is just snobby.

“Regardless of the experimentation, Adora was still born under the effects of magic, if she is not simply a natural werewolf. That seemed impossible, given the late onset, but with the magical experimentation, it is a possibility. Can you tell us anything about Adora’s parentage? Any details could help us. She was only ever able to say she was an orphan. She said she didn’t even remember her parents’ names,” Angella asks her. Catra draws in a breath, sending Adora a questioning look. This time Adora understands it, nodding as she reaches for Catra and hauls her into her lap so she can cuddle her like a teddy bear.

“You remember. I don’t. And it’s too hard for me to talk about myself,” Adora tells her. Catra sighs, but she nods, wrapping her arms around Adora and hugging her back. Adora’s eyes are radiating dim light, but nothing close to threatening a shift. Catra looks over towards where Angella is standing, only a few feet away.

“Randor and Marlena Grayskull. We were two when they died. It was in one of the Silver Raids,” Catra tells her, sighing a little as she says the words. Everyone in the room draws in a sharp breath, grief and pain flashing across the women’s faces. The Raids are the darkest spot in Etheria’s last two hundred years of history. A cult that rose up, founded on anti-folk beliefs. There were even some segments of it that were anti-hybrid. They became a terrorist group, harassing and attacking folk until they escalated to raids on the folk villages that used to be dotted around the Arid Plains and even some in the Whispering Woods.

Etheria had to put together an emergency army to combat the group. Everybody knows somebody who died in the war either fighting it or as a victim of the Silver Raids. The Raiders were disbanded eventually, and adaptation of general society to encompass the special needs of folk has been a big political focus in the two decades since the war ended, but the wound is fresh and hateful.

“I am very sorry to you both. I lost my husband fighting in the Silver Raids,” Angella tells her, softly, her eyes downcast. Catra feels her ears pin back, merely nodding mutely, not really capable of offering empathy to the woman despite the obvious _I know what it feels like_. At least her daughter is there to put a hand on her arm and squeeze it. For several long moments, nobody speaks, giving the dark memories the space they deserve, but eventually Castaspella looks up to Catra.

“If Adora lost her parents in a raid- wouldn’t that make them folk? Adora told us they were human,” Castaspella questions. Catra looks away, feeling Adora’s arms tighten around her to comfort her, and shakes her head.

“They were human – but mine obviously weren’t. Our parents were friends. Marlena and Randor were my godparents, and vice versa. They were visiting our village in the Whispering Woods when the raid happened. My parents didn’t make it, and Marlena and Randor ran with the two of us, but they were both injured. They died too, and then it was just Adora and I in a Bright Moon orphanage. They made us a package deal for fostering to _lessen our trauma_ or something,” Catra explains.

It is the _far condensed_ version, but more detail than that threatens to send either of them into a spiral. Catra may have just been a kitten, but her memory has always been a curse. The package deal was mostly for her benefit. They knew Adora would forget eventually, her trauma fading, but Catra watched her parents die and could never forget it. When Shadow Weaver came seeking out an apprentice, she would settle for none beneath the power she felt from Adora, and thus she was forced to take Catra too.

The pitying looks make her fur bristle. She scowls as she clutches Adora a little closer. “Just be careful with her. And _don’t_ let her think you’re disappointed in her or the results of her tests. That will cause her to shift in a heartbeat,” she tells them. Angella nods sagely, stepping forward to place her hand over her heart and give a half-bow.

“You have my word. Given her reactions now, I suspect there will not be much we can do to stop her if she truly begins to shift back, but we will do our best to make the experience as peaceful as possible,” Angella vows. It doesn’t make Catra feel a whole lot better, but she doesn’t have much of a choice but to accept it. She is already going to be cutting it close on arriving to her shift as it is.

\--

By the time Catra reaches work, she has already gotten three text updates from Glimmer. If it were about anything but Adora, Catra would find it excessive. As it is, Catra expects to spend the whole shift watching her phone. It turns out, she doesn’t need to watch it for long. Her shift has hardly started before she gets a text, cautious in tone, informing her Adora has shifted back, but she remains in complete control.

Catra is not really sure what _complete control_ means, but she gets her answer when she clocks out of work and drives at _exactly_ the speed limit back to the Nexus. She can’t speed, she doesn’t have a license and can’t risk getting caught driving without one, but she gets there as fast as she can. When she walks into the lab, it is to Princess immediately tearing away from where Glimmer was giving her belly rubs and bounding over to her, drawing to a halt right in front of Catra and tucking her tail between her legs, looking up at her with shame. Catra swallows, reaching a hand down to gently pet behind her ears.

“It’s okay, Adora,” she assures her, because Adora faced verbal _decimation_ inside Shadow Weaver’s lab, and she is pretty sure verbal comfort will do a lot for her now. Catra used to praise her, stroking her cheeks and wiping away her tears as they formed, when they lay together at night on days when Adora’s lack of magical ability had been particularly disappointing to Shadow Weaver.

Adora immediately whines and shoves her head into Catra’s hips, where her lap _would be_ if she were sitting. Her eyes are absolutely beaming, brighter than Catra has ever seen them as a wolf, and it makes Catra bite her lip. It is probably false hope, but she can’t do anything to bury it now it has started. The whole reason she agreed to this terrible plan was because the full moon was only a few days away and she was guaranteed to get Adora back then, but if she can have her back _now_ , it would be preferable.

Catra squats down, looping her arms around the back of Adora’s neck and petting absently through her thick fur as she presses a soft kiss to the top of Adora’s muzzle, ignoring their audience of sorceresses onlooking with clear interest.

“You did so well. I’m proud of you, Adora,” Catra praises her softly. Adora whines, a high sound that breaks a little near the middle as her eyes flare brighter. Catra feels her breath catch. “Good girl, there you go. Can you shift back for me? I won’t be disappointed, I just want you here,” Catra coaxes her. That is what does it. Adora’s golden coat shudders and then _glows_ as she shrinks down until her shape is recognizable as _Adora_ again.

Adora blinks her eyes open, staring at Catra in blatant shock. Catra might be crying a little bit as she surges forward and kisses Adora soundly. Adora lets out a shaking breath before kissing her back, wrapping trembling arms around her back.

In the background, one of the women clears their throat. Catra ignores all of them, pulling back to rest her forehead against Adora’s. A sudden possessive flare spikes through her when she remembers Adora is _naked_ _and crouching_ , but when she pulls back to take her in, she blinks down in shock at her girlfriend.

“You’re clothed this time,” she says, a bit dumbly. Adora glances down, blushing before she looks back up to make eye contact with Catra again.

“They’re important to you,” she says, softly, like that is all that matters and there aren’t factors like _magic_ and _curses_ to contend with when it comes to not ripping out of her clothes when she shifts. _Adora_ is important to her, not some old clothes, but Catra doesn’t want to correct her if it means Adora will somehow manage to stay clothed when she shifts. Naked Adora is a view that belongs just to _her_ , thank you very much.

Glimmer has definitely already seen it if she has been the one performing the ritual to shift Adora back, but Catra ignores that thought, because if she ruminates on it further she might just have to scratch the other woman’s eyes out.

\--

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Catra says when Glimmer tries to explain their best current theory to her. Adora pauses in the middle of covering the side of Catra’s neck in kisses, apparently unbothered by the other people present in the room, to snort for a moment. Adora nips at the side of her neck, a chiding motion meant to correct an outspoken pup, but Catra _will not be silenced_ , and Adora should know better than to try. She is a little muddled after shifting back again, like she had been this morning, although at least she is already capable of full sentences again.

“Listen, myths have to start somewhere, and even if there isn’t such a thing as true love’s kiss, emotions influence which magical energies someone has. Dark magic is about _taking_ , and desire falls under that category. Adora’s… _condition_ results in her generating an incredible amount of light magic. She seems to be mastering it somewhat by balancing it with her dark emotions. Her shifting back just now was _incredible_ , Catra,” Glimmer tells her.

Catra turns to look over her shoulder at Adora, who was in the middle of pressing a kiss to the base of her ear. Adora blinks down at her in surprise and then smiles sheepishly at Catra. She clearly has not been paying attention to a word being said and is hoping Catra is not going to call her on it.

“I love you?” she says, the question of _will this get me out of trouble_ clear. Catra’s ears twitch and she sighs as she stretches up on her toes to press a kiss to Adora’s cheek. Adora relaxes against her, humming happily and returning to nuzzling into Catra’s hair. Catra turns back to Glimmer.

“I called her a _good girl_ and said I was proud of her,” Catra points out. Glimmer blushes, but she forges on ahead.

“Listen, we have theories, but we need to do a bit more research into lycanthropy. It is not as simple as the movies make it seem. It can result from werewolf parents, being bitten, or via curses. We assumed Adora’s was a result of a bloodline curse given how it overtook her, but curses can’t suddenly be _fought_ like this, and her prior exposure to magic changes everything. In the meantime, desire may be her best band-aid to stay human,” Glimmer tells her.

Adora is clearly _embarrassed_ , which Catra can’t blame her for too much considering her kinks just got exposed to an entire room of sorceresses, but Catra is flushing even more than her girlfriend. Adora has her face buried in the side of Catra’s neck while Catra’s tail lashes between them.

“So, what, just _praise her to keep her human_?” Catra demands, because she honestly cannot _deal_ with this. Glimmer has the grace to look away.

“Or other things,” she offers, meekly.

\--

_Research_ takes time and the sorceresses are used to a human sleep schedule, even if they don’t need to rest as much as the average human. Catra takes Adora home in the early hours of the morning, her hand lightly placed on Adora’s thigh as they drive. It makes Adora flush, the muscles in her thigh periodically jumping beneath Catra’s touch.

“Catra, I… We should talk about this,” Adora mumbles, dropping a hand over her own on her thigh. Catra is a little grateful she has to keep her eyes on the road so she has an excuse to not look Adora in the eye.

“I already knew you had a thing for praise, Adora. Nothing to be ashamed of,” she manages, diplomatically, because she really doesn’t want to _talk about_ much of anything. She wants to get home, devour an early-morning dinner, and then pass out with her girlfriend. Adora is silent for several long moments before she sighs.

“I love you, and obviously I- I want you, but I also don’t want you to push yourself to do anything you don’t want. I’m going to stay, even if I shift. I haven’t lost myself since the first time,” Adora tells her. Catra feels her ears flatten to her head. “I just – I don’t want you to feel like you have to force yourself on me to keep me. I can spend a few hours or days as a wolf if I need to,” she continues. Catra feels herself relax a little, her fur lying flat.

She was honest when she said that it would take a while for her brain to get used to the truth. Her first thought was Adora doesn’t really want this weird solution they have devised. But then again, if she didn’t want it, it wouldn’t have worked. Catra swallows as she turns the car onto her street.

“Adora, I will happily have sex with you every day for the rest of our lives, okay?” Catra tells her. Even out of the corner of her eye she can see Adora blushing as she pulls into her driveway. Adora opens her mouth, no doubt to argue, so Catra cuts in again. “ _But_ , if I really am not in the mood, I will keep it in mind. You saying it is not going to be enough. I’ll need to see it happen and know things are still okay to believe it,” Catra tells Adora. They both know empty words never meant shit to her.

Adora chews on her lip, seeming unsure, but she nods as Catra switches off her car. Catra sighs as she gathers Princess’s collar from the back seat. She reaches over, cradling Adora’s cheek with her free hand. Adora leans into the touch gladly, her eyes soft as she watches Catra, their dim glow the only light in Catra’s car given the busted roof light. She smashed it driving home from a match, somehow _angrier_ after tearing someone up than before. It took her a few more weeks to realize violence was not helping.

“Just _be_ here,” she whispers, her voice quiet. _Just love me. Show me I can be loved_. She can’t say it – it’s too weak. Adora hears it though, because she turns her head and kisses Catra’s hand with reverence, the touch light and yet so _devoted_. Catra swallows. “Come on, Melog is probably worried,” she deflects, her voice cracking a little.

Adora holds her gaze as she reaches up to grab Catra’s hand, keeping her from pulling away, and kisses the palm of her hand, right over the crescent marks from this morning. All of Catra’s fur fluffs up at the loving touch of Adora’s lips. When Adora pulls back, her eyes are dark and intense.

“I am here. I love you,” she says as she twines their fingers together. Catra didn’t mean she had to show her _right this moment_ , but she certainly is not complaining.

\--

Going to bed is kind of nerve-wracking. Catra’s heart is pounding as they lay down together, her body certain she will wake up alone. She drapes over Adora, pinning her to the mattress as Melog stretches out beside them. Adora doesn’t mention Catra’s lashing tail, just wrapping her arms around her back and pressing kisses against her ears until eventually the exhaustion and emotional toll of the day drags Catra’s body down into sleep.

Catra wakes to hot breaths puffing against her neck as Adora lavishes gentle kisses there. She shivers, her tail thudding heavily against the mattress as her body rouses in response to Adora’s affections. Adora pulls back at the movement, offering Catra a sheepish smile.

“Sorry. I didn’t want to wake you. I just-“ she cuts off, looking away, “wanted,” she finally mumbles, cheeks beginning to blaze. Catra flushes a little herself, raising an eyebrow at Adora that she definitely catches in her periphery if the totally unsubtle cough she gives is any indication. Adora quickly ducks down, seeking solace in Catra’s neck – and also pressing more kisses there.

Catra’s body is _awake_ now, the terrible anxiety that yesterday would be the one day she got finally eased and replaced with a flooding heat spreading out from the touch of Adora’s lips and all through her body. Catra knows her mood is unstable at the best of times and can swing between extremes, but right now all she wants is to feel Adora against her, to feel her heat and _know_.

They have had sex before, but it wasn’t _just_ sex. Honestly, the sex part of it had been an afterthought. It had been about pouring out their love to each other, showing how they felt and feeling _whole_ in each other’s arms. Every moment since Catra has felt a bit empty. Adora nips experimentally at the side of her neck and Catra hears herself whimper quietly. That seems to be all the encouragement Adora needs to set to sucking a bruise there.

Catra is at a crossroads. She wants this. Her body does too – she hasn’t thought of _anyone_ this way since Adora, and even time with her own hand has been scarce ever since Melog moved in. Glimmer basically told them to give in to their desires for the time being. Catra told Adora yesterday that she was owed a morning of a naked cuddling, but in truth, Catra had been hoping for more than just cuddling when they awoke on the morning after. Now, desire is laced with Adora’s scent as she _marks_ Catra’s neck.

“Adora,” Catra prompts softly, tangling her hands in Adora’s hair. Adora pauses, releasing Catra’s neck and making a soft, questioning sound. Catra wants to draw all manner of noises from her, but not _this_ time when she is still unsure of where Adora stands. Catra can pin her to the mattress later. “Do you still want me to cut your hair?” Catra questions, tugging slightly on the locks in question. Adora huffs a laugh tinged with a moan.

“No. Thanks for stopping me. I wasn’t thinking clearly at first,” Adora tells her. Immediately, Melog stands and shakes themselves out. Adora blinks at them as they leap from the bed, heading out the bedroom door and closing it behind them with a decisive swing of their tail. In the living room, Catra can hear them slipping out the backdoor as well. They sensed Catra’s reaction and want no part in what is about to happen. Desire is too human. Melog doesn’t understand it.

Catra lets out a shaky breath, dropping her hands from Adora’s hair to her shoulders and tugging, pulling Adora over her as she rolls from her side onto her back. Adora blinks down at her in surprise, clearly confused, but if Adora doesn’t want to cut her hair anymore, if she is aware now that she wasn’t totally in control before-

“What do you want, Adora?” Catra asks her, softly, looking up at her with open eyes. She doesn’t want to coddle Adora, to treat her like she can’t decide things for herself. It certainly won’t help with her complex. She wants to _ask_ and know Adora truly wants the same. The only answer she wants to hear is _you_ , but Adora might not be so easily swayed by her desires now she has settled in her body. She might want to wait, to learn to be them again first.

Catra doesn’t know if she _can_ without doing this first. She needs what they did on their last night together and then she needs Adora to stay by her side afterwards. She needs evidence that Adora really is staying. After her heart is convinced of that, she needs to pin Adora to the mattress, to have her completely until they _both_ know that Adora is hers and they are each other’s-

But Catra is getting ahead of herself. Adora’s eyes darken at her question, gaze dragging down Catra’s body for several long moments before sweeping up to make eye contact again, her tongue peeking out to wet her lips.

“I want to make love to you. I want a do-over on five years ago,” Adora tells her, apparently completely in line with Catra’s thoughts. All the air promptly leaves Catra’s lungs. She shudders, her grip on Adora’s shoulders flexing with the effort to contain the needy moan that wants to escape her throat and _does_ despite her best efforts.

“Don’t worry about getting me off. I just want to feel you,” Catra tells her, because she really couldn’t _give a shit_. She just needs Adora to be with her, against her and alive. Adora groans in response, a very _human_ sound laced with desire as she nods. Catra’s fur is standing on end a little as Adora leans forward and kisses her, passionate and hungry.

\--

Adora strips her, and then she strips Adora, just like they had the first night, only Adora knows a bit about how to make her feel good now. She still starts the same way she had then, her eyes and hands roaming over Catra’s body as she bends to press kisses down her throat and across her collar bone, following it to the line of her shoulder.

Adora pauses to press a kiss into the scar that decorates her there now, thin and unnoticeable in how it disrupts her fur if you didn’t know what she looked like before. Catra shivers, failing to hide her whine as Adora traces the shape with the tip of her tongue, seemingly just because she _wants_ to.

“Are these scars from fighting?” Adora asks, her voice low as she shifts to press kisses to the stripes on Catra’s upper arm. Catra is blushing from the attention, but she nods as Adora raises her hands to feel and massage along her arm, seeking other obscured marks. She finds them, gracing each one with a kiss. Catra’s breath is shaking now.

“All but the ones on – ah – on my hands. Some of them are from fighting, but also from broken glass at the bar,” Catra tells Adora, her flush blazing as Adora shifts to kiss the thin marks on her fingers. Adora’s eyes spark at Catra’s reaction and she takes Catra’s hand in both of her own, pressing kisses to the base of each claw. Catra hears herself whine, knowing Princess only had half an idea what she has done with these hands, and Adora likely has not put together much more.

And yet she kisses each finger like she _does_ , like she knows how badly Catra needs it. She presses the trigger point in the middle of Catra’s palm that makes her claws flex out, and normally Catra _hates_ that, but now Adora carefully kisses each claw and Catra holds herself stock-still as she does so, overwhelmed by the affection and terrified of accidentally hurting her.

Adora releases the pressure on her palm, and Catra swallows dryly as her claws slide back in. Adora shifts up, smiling softly at Catra’s somewhat-dumbstruck expression before she kisses her again, lips as soft as her hands are, guiding Catra’s arm back down beside her. Catra whimpers into the kiss as Adora’s hands squeeze along her other arm, finding her scars there by feel and tracing them with her fingertips so they can keep kissing.

Catra’s tail is lashing beneath her, her breathing uneven by the time Adora pulls back to smile at her softly, both her hands sliding up to frame her jaw. Adora bends to kiss it, nuzzling into her cheek tufts and then rubbing her own cheek against where Catra’s scent is strongest, marking _herself_. That makes Catra moan, shifting a little beneath Adora.

“I love you. I’m going to show you, okay? But I want to mark you first. Can I do that?” Adora asks, her voice low and a bit nervous as she noses down to Catra’s neck. Adora never left marks the first time. Catra had wanted her to, but everything about Adora from her words to her touch had been soft, and Catra wasn’t going to ask her for it during their first time together. Afterwards, Catra had been somewhat grateful she didn’t have to look into the mirror and see reminders.

Catra doesn’t like to be owned – to be claimed or told what to do – but the fact of the matter is Adora has _had_ her since they were small children. Catra wants the proof that Adora wants her back. She will leave plenty of proof on Adora later to show who she belongs to, but for now, her own breath quickens at the idea and she nods, tilting her head back.

She ends up _clutching_ Adora’s hair, tugging and yanking on it as Adora drags moan after moan from her with harsh bites. She sucks marks dark enough to show through Catra’s peach fuzz on her neck, not stopping until there must be a _dozen_ fucking marks there and Catra is trembling beneath her, her pulse hammering in her throat and through every darkening bruise.

Adora drops her hands to Catra’s sides, petting through her fur slowly as she presses gentle kisses against each of the marks. If they hadn’t been naked to begin with, Catra might as well have just _thrown away_ her underwear at this point, because there would be no salvaging it. She is soaked, starting to approach _strung out_ as Adora kisses her on the mouth again, soft and gentle, in utter contrast to the _ravaging_ her neck just went through.

“Still okay?” Adora asks softly when she pulls back, her expression so tender it makes Catra whimper and nuzzle up to tuck her face under her jaw just to feel _safety_ after Adora left her so exposed. Adora lets out a shaking breath, bracing herself with one arm and raising the other to cup the back of Catra’s head so she can relax a little as she nuzzles in, sighing softly in her relief.

“Do you want to stop?” Adora asks, voice still gentle. Catra growls in response, words a little beyond her. It makes Adora release a relieved chuckle, but there is still a bit of tension there. Catra feels her throat flex as she tries to pull herself out of whatever vulnerable place Adora just put her in. It doesn’t work, but she needs to assure Adora, so she speaks anyway.

“I’m good. You’re doing so well for me, Adora. Don’t stop. I want to feel you,” Catra promises her. Adora shivers, cradling her close in her arms.

She takes those words to heart.

\--

It must be an _hour_. After her arms, after her _neck_ , Adora sets to work on her chest, using flicking and twisting fingers and adding a few – gentler – marks until Catra is so worked up, so desperate for release, she comes from Adora’s knee between her thighs and her teeth scraping lightly across the bud of her nipple.

It takes Catra mewling, whimpering and desperate as she jerks beneath Adora’s touch, overstimulated and _crying just a little_ , for Adora to realize what just happened, so determined to lavish Catra in affection she missed how loud Catra’s breaths and moans were building. The hands leave her, and that makes Catra _actually_ cry, but then hands are framing her face and Adora’s lips are soft on her cheeks as she kisses along her tear trails, murmuring _I love you, I’m here_ like a mantra.

It takes awhile for Catra’s body to reach any semblance of calm again. Adora holds her the whole time, murmuring assurances and kissing her face, ears, and jaw, but never daring to approach her lips while Catra is still wordless.

“Kiss me,” Catra manages to pant eventually. Adora lets out a breath of relief, leaning in immediately to kiss her lips just as softly as she just did her ears. She could feel Adora’s nerves building, made anxious by her tears, but she needed to let herself soak in Adora’s comfort - to feel her still holding her close, not _fleeing_.

They kiss long and slow, assuring each other where their words fail them. By the time they part, Catra is feeling stable again, still vulnerable but no longer overstimulated. Adora is confident enough to follow Catra’s prompt when she pulls Adora’s hands down to her hips. Adora goes exploring after the hint, tracing along Catra’s thighs and making her squirm beneath her.

“Good tears?” Adora eventually questions. She hasn’t pulled away, still kissing the side of her face even as she touches her. Catra flushes and nods, feeling her fur fluff up a little.

“Just- vulnerable. Afraid of what happened last time. But you’re still here. You’re doing well,” Catra tells her, a bit breathlessly. Adora draws in a slow breath, but she nods, bending to press kisses along Catra’s neck, ghosting over the bruises again. Catra forces her body to relax, like she learned to do just before taking a hit, trying to just soak in Adora’s gentle affections.

Adora has been gentle with her this whole time – in a way, she was still gentle and careful even when she was punishing her neck – and now she massages her hands thoroughly over Catra’s thighs as she shifts down and presses light kisses along her ribs, her stomach, the arch of her hips. Eventually, she is pressing kisses to the tops of Catra’s thighs as her hands slide _up_ and she makes eye contact with her.

“Catra, do you want-“ she starts to ask, but getting off once has barely eased the desperation, and Catra is already arching into her hands.

“ _Yes_. Fuck, Adora, this is the one time I’ll be _easy_ for you. Just come up here while you do it,” Catra tells her, shifting her hips down. Adora smiles at that for some reason, bright and happy as she shifts to brace over Catra again. She kisses her as she finally slides her hands over Catra to touch her.

Adora has some idea of what she likes. She knows she is sensitive, that she needs steady movements, steady pressure, to build herself up and push her over. She still fucks Catra _slow_ , the steady drag of her fingers a special kind of ecstasy as Catra pants and forces down the urge to _beg_. This isn’t about getting off – she already _has_ anyway – it is about feeling Adora against her, above her, and still having her afterwards.

Catra could never trust anyone else above her, and the one time she trusted Adora with this she _lost_ her. As possessive as she is, as greedily as she wants Adora to be face down in the mattress and _hers_ , she needs Adora to have her first and prove she can be trusted with her. No matter how she has always felt it, Catra won’t be able to _say_ I love you again until they do this, until she wakes up tomorrow with Adora still around her.

Adora fucks her slow and right. She finds the spot that Catra discovered years ago but can’t quite _hit_ right herself without a toy. Adora manages it though, reducing her to a whining, shivering mess, mewling softly when Adora rubs the heel of her palm against her clit on each thrust, far too uncoordinated even now to use both her hands at once and needing the other to prop herself up anyway so she can keep them face-to-face like Catra asked.

Adora presses kisses into her fur, murmuring how soft she is, how she loves her, how she’s here, she’s here, she’s here. She isn’t _leaving_.

It’s the _I’m yours_ that pushes Catra over the edge for the second time, mewling and writhing down onto Adora’s fingers.

\--

They don’t leave the bed. Melog hunted breakfast for themselves for the first time in a long time because they got tired of waiting – Catra picks that up through the bond as she nuzzles in Adora’s chest – and they eventually return to play in the living room. Adora visibly perks up at the sound of Melog’s jingly bell toy rolling across the floor and Catra chuckles at her, stroking through her hair as Adora realizes what she did and blushes furiously.

It is midday, and Catra’s phone has been buzzing occasionally, but if work wants her in for extra time then Huntara can eat her ass. It takes Catra what must be thirty minutes of Adora cuddling her close for her to even work up the courage to say anything.

“You’re mine, Adora,” Catra whispers softly against her skin. Adora shivers a little and nods beneath her, looking at her with half-lidded eyes. Catra swallows. “I needed that, to do that and see that you’re still here after, but Adora? In the morning, I’m going to fuck you through the mattress,” Catra tells her.

Adora curses quietly, then releases a groan approaching a growl, and _then_ gives up on trying for real words and just nods with a soft whimper. Catra smiles to herself, stretching up to press a soft kiss along Adora’s jaw. “Such a good girlfriend. I- I… _fuck_ ,” she cuts off in a mutter, tucking her face down into Adora’s neck in shame.

Beneath her, Adora makes a questioning sound, wrapping her arms tightly around Catra and nudging into her hair. Catra kind of loathes herself for not being able to say it when Adora has done it a dozen fucking times already, but she is still _scared_. She doesn’t want to lose Adora. She can’t go through that again.

“Catra, were you going to say you love me?” Adora asks softly, her voice unsure. Catra whines into her neck. Adora’s next breath is shaking as she reaches a hand up to pet through Catra’s hair. “I love you too. It’s okay if you can’t say it. I know I have to earn your trust again,” Adora promises her.

Fuck, at this rate they are _never getting out of bed_.

\--

Okay, they do eventually get out of bed. They even get _dressed_ , and Melog perks up a significant amount when they step out into the living room. They keep bringing their toys to Adora while Catra cooks them all lunch, wanting her to play with them or at least throw something for them to chase. Adora seems more than happy to do so, smiling every time Melog approaches her with a new offering. Eventually food is ready, and Catra sets it out for them. Melog _speedruns_ their lunch so they can climb into Adora’s lap. Adora coos.

“I’m glad you still like me, buddy,” she tells them, happily, petting along their back. Melog is shrunk down to housecat size. That usually means they want cuddles, which Adora seems all-too happy to provide. She hums happily as she pets along their back, content to eat one-handed despite the way her hands still shake occasionally.

She had been insistent she could put her hair up herself when they eventually got dressed, but she had only been able to manage a half-up, partial ponytail. Adora had frowned at it and then shrugged, seemingly content as long as her hair was out of her face. Catra is content too, because it is a _good_ look, even with Adora’s hair not in the healthiest condition after all these years.

“As much as I really don’t want to leave, I have to work tonight. I’ll leave a little early and stop at the store on the way. Get you some blonde hair shit and human soap. And a human toothbrush,” Catra tells Adora, pressing a kiss to the top of her head as she gathers up the dishes for them. Adora stays seated due to a combination of Melog curled in her lap and fear that her unsteady hands will cause her to drop a plate.

“What do you do now, anyway? I know you work at a bar, and you always smelled like alcohol when you came home, but one time you smelled like _blood_ too,” Adora asks. Catra pauses, blinking over at her as she dumps their dishes in the sink. She forgot that despite living with her for a month, Adora was in no shape to ask questions, so there are a lot of basic facts she might not know.

“I’m a bartender. Have been for the last year. Usually work five nights a week. My boss, Huntara, she used to be a proper boxer, but she tore a ligament and retired to open up her own bar. It’s a “take no shit” kind of place. If I see a dude getting sly with girls or trying to slip something into drinks, I’m encouraged to lay him out. It’s pretty decent work,” Catra relays, returning to the table to drape over Adora’s shoulders. Adora hesitates, clearly unsure even as she reaches a hand up to take Catra’s own where it is thrown over her shoulders.

“I- when I was a wolf, I tried to hunt on my own so I wouldn’t be a burden, but if I’m trying to stay human, I’ll have to eat your food, and I know that costs money-“ Adora starts. Catra can’t _believe_ Adora is already worrying about this. She rolls her eyes, huffing as she rests her chin on top of her idiotic girlfriend’s head.

“Focus on figuring out your _condition_ and staying human first. Once you have that down we can start worrying about finding you a job. Or not. You could be my trophy wife,” Catra tells her. A bit of a wicked idea crosses her mind and she raises one hand to grab Adora’s jaw, forcing it up a little just to reposition her and listen to how her breath catches. “Or my _pet_. You’ll be mine either way, won’t you, Adora?” Catra purrs.

The scent of Adora’s desire is instantaneous and _obvious_. It actually makes Melog wrinkle their nose as they leap from Adora’s lap, fleeing as Adora rubs her thighs together in her seat. Apparently she _really_ likes that idea, but Catra didn’t need _this_ reaction to tell her that. Adora’s expression upon seeing her collar as a human for the first time when Catra fetched it last night had been evidence enough. Catra hums, releasing Adora’s jaw and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Tell you what, why don’t you pay me back in chores for now? Washing the dishes and that kind of thing. You know how I hate getting my hands wet,” Catra tells her, because she knows Adora would go stir-crazy if she was completely idle. Adora straightens a little, smiling easily and nodding. Catra opens her mouth, about to call her an idiot for _wanting_ to do chores despite knowing how Adora’s brain works, but she is cut off by a pounding knock at her door that she knows well.

Catra frowns, glancing up at her clock to confirm that yes, it is Thursday, and they neither have the fight today nor is it time for Scorpia’s weekly visit. Adora shoots Catra a worried look at the way her door is rattling in its hinges, but that is just the way Scorpia knocks.

“Wildcat? Hello? I’m worried about you! You haven’t answered your phone!” Scorpia calls, muffled through the door. Adora relaxes a little at the familiar voice – or maybe just at the fact it is a _wellness check_ , apparently. Most days she could throw her phone into a river and no one would notice, but of course the day she leaves it on silent is the one Scorpia desperately tries to contact her. Catra rolls her eyes as she flicks her tail in Melog’s direction.

Melog follows Catra’s prompt, crossing to the front door and carefully flipping the lock with their nose. Melog nudges the door open, and a surprised Scorpia is backlit in the doorway, peering into the house. Her instant relief at spotting Catra is obvious, as is her surprise at seeing her _hanging off_ someone. Scorpia shifts on her feet, uncertain.

“Sorry to just barge in. I panicked when you didn’t answer your phone for two hours,” Scorpia says, stepping sheepishly through the doorway and sending her an apologetic smile as the door swings shut behind her.

“We were having sex,” Catra says, because her brain does a mad scramble of _say you’re sorry_ and _never admit weakness_ that somehow overlaps into _tell her the reason so she knows you weren’t just ignoring her without admitting you care_. Scorpia _gapes_ at her while Adora flushes and coughs, turning away with her cheeks blazing.

Alright, that might be the worst solution to a problem her brain has ever come up with, and she became the queen of underground deathmatches because of a _breakup_. Catra flushes herself, tightening her arms around Adora so she doesn’t get the idea to _run_ from this disaster that Catra has created.

“ _For two hours_?” Scorpia questions, her voice thin and incredulous. She isn’t _actually_ asking, just kind of in shock, but Catra narrows her eyes at the woman.

“Do I need to have a talk with your new girlfriend?” she asks, because yes, two hours is excessive for an _every single day_ thing, but she hasn’t had sex in five years and Scorpia is _aware_ of that. Scorpia makes a choking noise and several desperate cut-off motions.

“We haven’t- Perfuma and I- I’m pretty sure that’s not _normal_ , Wildcat,” Scorpia sputters out, her eyes darting between Catra and Adora. Catra snorts.

“Sure, but it is _fun_. Are you going to come over and introduce yourself or not?” Catra questions. She is fairly confident Scorpia won’t be able to look Adora in the eye for a while, but that ship has sailed and there is nothing she can do about her own dumb mouth. Scorpia is still flustered, but she edges into the kitchen and waves uncertainly to Adora.

“Uh, howdy. I’m Scorpia, Catra’s best friend. I didn’t mean to- interrupt,” Scorpia manages to get out, wincing nearly the entire time. Catra doesn’t blame her for being out of her element considering how hung up on Adora she has been the entire time Scorpia has known her, but she still snorts as Adora stands and reaches out a hand to shake. Scorpia won’t take it, but Catra onlooks proudly as Scorpia gets a look of determination, pulling her arm back and making it clear she is going for a fistbump, causing Adora to clumsily shift her hand into a curled first as well to meet her.

Adora’s fingers get a little tangled up in themselves, some crossed wires in her brain misfiring, and Scorpia actually pokes her tongue out of her mouth in concentration, but she manages to pull off the maneuver that Catra taught her as a way to decline handshakes without having to seem like a _special needs hybrid_.

“I’m Adora, though we have actually met before,” Adora starts to tell her. She doesn’t get the chance to go any further, stopping when Scorpia’s eyes widen to the size of dinner plates and snap to Catra, specifically to her _neck_ , and then back to Adora.

“Adora? As in _Catra’s Adora_ Adora? As in the Adora who took her virginity, broke her heart, and then disappeared into the night and left her _hollow_? You’re that Adora?” Scorpia questions. Catra starts, not expecting the growing _anger_ on her behalf. She has no words, staring at Scorpia in shock-

Becoming _too focused on Scorpia_ , because Adora whines and Catra realizes it isn’t _just_ her eyes glowing but her skin too. She scrambles, reaching for Adora and grabbing her by the shoulders, spinning her around so she can make eye contact with the beaming blue.

“Stay with me, Adora. It’s okay. I just want you here with me,” Catra talks her through it, watching Adora shudder as she fights her bones shifting, but her skin dulls at least. “That’s it. Just focus on me. Good girl,” Catra instructs. It works. The light in her eyes dims and Adora tilts forward, nudging in against her and whimpering softly. Catra lets out a shaking breath, wrapping her arms around Adora’s shoulders. She drops a soft kiss against the side of Adora’s head.

“You did so good for me, Adora,” she praises as Adora’s breath steadies against her neck. Adora lets out a soft sigh, pressing a grateful kiss to the side of Catra’s neck before straightening again, smiling down at her a bit apologetically.

From the entrance of the kitchen, Scorpia gapes at them. It is going to take a lot of explaining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re curious what a non-human toothbrush looks like, google “three head pet toothbrush”.  
> Every time someone commented on chapter 3 about true love breaking the curse I was just like <.< Uh, yeah, _love_. It’s definitely that innocent.


	8. 5. The fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for: Violence (not too graphic, hopefully?), Blood, and like two sentences of gore, all near the very end of the chapter.

After Catra and Adora have made out _a little_ , just to make sure she is grounded, they settle on the couch in a mirror of their position with Glimmer nearly a full day ago now. Catra orders that Scorpia not ask questions or make Adora feel guilty and then sets to texting Glimmer an update on Adora’s shifting while Adora haltingly explains. Some of it is clearer now she can speak properly.

“I woke up with the wolf trying to come out, but in a human body it kind of felt like an abomination, and I could feel it taking over me. I was sure Shadow Weaver had cast some kind of spell in revenge that would make me- _hurt_ Catra so once she was gone I would have no reason to leave Shadow Weaver anymore. I wasn’t really able to speak, and I just knew I had to get away before I could hurt her,” Adora explains now, far more detailed than the few words she had mumbled out to Catra yesterday morning. Catra runs her hands through Adora’s hair to soothe her.

By the end of the conversation, Scorpia has thoroughly exhausted Melog’s tolerance for cuddles by using him like a teddy bear as Adora explains the years of isolation in the woods, only herself for a day every month and every time knowing she had no leads on finding her off-the-grid girlfriend. Catra is not _totally_ invisible on paper, but she keeps herself as scarce as possible to keep Hordak or someone else from the underground finding her. She went by a moniker for a reason.

Scorpia decides to forgive Adora, mostly because Adora’s side of the story makes her cry and Catra clearly has already – well, she is working on it, it is fucking _complicated_ – but Scorpia does warn her not to run like that again. Adora’s eyes flash, but they don’t _glow_ as she nods with determination. Catra has finally managed to scroll through the backlog of _dozens_ of messages from her best friend and found the actual purpose to her visit in the first place, the unanswered text that then triggered an avalanche of worry.

“What is happening with DT?” Catra asks softly, staring down at the screen with trepidation. The worry isn’t just for the news Scorpia is bringing. Adora hasn’t brought up her fighting aside from asking what she does _now_ and asking about her scars. Catra is kind of terrified of Adora finding out all that she has done. She knows the matches were violent already, but she doesn’t know the half of it. Scorpia winces, nodding acknowledgement as she rubs at the back of her neck.

“They called this morning. Said Hordak found out about the fight, which, you know, I wasn’t expecting him _not_ to- Uh, anyway, he’s upset about it. DT has hosted other fights on the side before, but they say it’s different this time,” Scorpia tells her. Catra exhales slow, nodding.

“It’s us, of course it’s different. Are they backing out?” Catra asks. It would be fair to. Hordak is not someone most people would risk pissing off, but Catra has personally torn through every one of his fighters and _him_ , so he knows better than to fuck with her now. DT is only in business with him so they have the money they need to keep their theatre running and fuel their passionate shows. If this fight puts their arrangement at risk, Catra can’t see them continuing it.

“No, but they said only because Hordak’s threats got out and now ticket sales are climbing from speculation that Hordak will make an appearance. Apparently people think it is one of DT’s _plotlines_ ,” Scorpia says. Catra scowls. Assuming the whole thing is an arrangement between the three of them discounts all the work they did getting out, but no one on the outside knows how _hard_ that is. At her side, Adora places a gentle hand on her knee.

“Catra, I know I was there for the meeting with DT, but I really don’t know what is going on,” Adora reminds, quietly. She seems a bit ashamed to be asking. Catra doesn’t know _why_ since Adora has a fair point. The question makes her flinch as she hunches down. Melog jumps up onto the couch, curling on the cushion beside her to provide her a comforting presence. Catra takes a deep breath.

“I was furious after you vanished, Adora. Boxing was a way to get that anger out. Hordak was my old manager, and he’s _powerful_ in the underground fighting scene on Etheria. Scorpia was one of his fighters, too. We kept it up until we both had the money we needed to buy property, and then our friend Entrapta helped us get out from under Hordak,” Catra explains. Adora winces a little, nodding as her hand shifts to trace one of the scars on Catra’s arm.

Scorpia is _watching_ Catra, probably because she is lying her ass off. By omission – mostly – but Scorpia is well aware that nothing about Catra’s fights could be classified as _boxing_. Boxing doesn’t allow claws, or tearing, or _biting_. Boxing doesn’t allow an opponent and _friend_ to bleed out in the ring in front of you.

“I bought the house and got my job at the bar to cover additional expenses. Scorpia used her winnings to open up her tea shop. We were hoping to avoid Hordak by just going through DT, but if he shows up at the fight…” Catra adds, desperate to distract Scorpia before she can point out Catra’s dishonesty. It works. Scorpia flinches at the mere mention of Hordak showing up. Beside her, Adora frowns.

“I never liked this plan. Can’t you go to the coven for help with Emily? I’m sure Angella would know _something_ ,” Adora points out. Catra scoffs, shaking her head.

“ _Poltergeist_ , remember? It is illegal to handle dark spirits without a license. Safety laws don’t do _shit_ to protect people when they let the licensed exorcists charge a fortune for their services on dark spirits. If the coven even knew anything, their hands are tied, and Entrapta is going to be no help,” Catra tells her, shaking her head. Adora pauses. She has been to Entrapta’s lab and witnessed her weird relationship firsthand.

“What is going on with her and Darl-“

“ _Don’t ask_ ,” Catra and Scorpia both cut in. Scorpia looks a bit sheepish while Catra grimaces. She doesn’t know how that works and doesn’t _want_ to. Entrapta is happy, Darla is a light spirit who wouldn’t hurt her, and beyond that Catra doesn’t need or want details. Catra just shakes her head.

“We have to do the fight, Adora. Or at least try. If Hordak shows up we might have to bolt, but until then I’m not backing out. I can’t just let my best friend be _haunted_ ,” Catra tells Adora, firmly. Adora presses her mouth into a thin line and narrows her eyes at her, clearly unhappy, but she doesn’t argue further. Adora would do the same damn thing in her position and they both know it.

“I’m coming with you. And I’m going to ask Glimmer to come too. Offensive magic is her specialty, even if she isn’t confirmed in it yet. If something happens, she will be good backup,” Adora tells her. Catra wrinkles her nose. She does _not_ want to fight alongside the sorceress, but without the assurance Adora will be more stressed. More stress leads to increased odds of shifting. She sighs, her shoulders falling.

“ _Fine_ , but only if she isn’t a fucking square who will report us. It’s _illegal_ , Adora,” Catra points out. Adora actually laughs in response.

\--

Catra stops at a few stores on her way to work, leaving early just so she can get everything she needs. Well, everything that Adora needs, whether she knows it yet or not. Some of it is basic stuff – human shampoo and soap, a human hair and toothbrush, new underwear and bras given the age of hers and the impressive muscle gains she made during her time as a wolf, and some easy snacks that Catra can’t tolerate so well but Adora can grab if she is hungry and her hands are unsteady.

Adora’s coordination is still shit, even if her hands don’t shake unless prompted by use at this point. Well, at least they don’t shake much. Catra sees the slight tremors that begin the second Adora starts to think about using her hands, but it has not even been two days yet, and she reverted for a few hours last night.

Some of Catra’s purchases are less practical. In her defence, she missed the hell out of Adora, and she is allowed to get her girlfriend a few superfluous things. Given the week she has had and is going to _continue_ having, she can get herself something too. Work is thankfully boring – Catra wasn’t really up to having to break up a fight today, not with the _big_ one coming up tomorrow – and she makes it back home in the early hours of the morning.

She pauses when she parks in the driveway, finding an excuse to delay in gathering her shopping bags. She rearranges the items inside them, just pre-sorting the bags to find some of her presents for Adora, telling herself she bought them because she missed her and not as a _bribe_ or anything. It was easy to believe in the store. It is harder to believe now she is sitting in her driveway, staring at the dull light filtering around her front door window. If Adora is here, she either fell asleep with the light on or is still up.

 _If_. Catra worries at her lip as she looks down at her purchases- fuck it, at her bribes, though it may be too late to give them. Adora said she never wanted to leave. She said she did it to protect Catra. She said that she and Glimmer both looked for Catra. She said _all_ of that, but forty-eight hours ago Catra thought Adora had fallen out of love with her at some point – or, in her darker moments, never loved her at all – and left her after their first night together.

Catra knows processing and healing takes time – she has spent five years making little progress at it – but part of her just wants to be _done_ hurting now Adora is back. She wants to just believe that Adora loves her, that she is loveable.

Catra swallows, shifting through her purchases and making sure the new collar is hidden. It is kind of a joke – at least, she wants to say that, and probably _will_ if Adora reacts badly. She very well could. She practically whines every time Catra uses her name now, missing the sound of it after all these years. Outside of kinks, Adora probably wouldn’t want the collar, but her reaction to being called _pet_ had been obvious. This isn’t about Adora’s reaction, though – this is about _having_ her.

Adora has always had her, and for a long time Catra thought it was one-sided. She just wants to see it isn’t now, even if this isn’t a _tonight_ thing. With the collar hidden, however, she has no more excuse to be sitting out here. And yet here she is, staring at her own front door with a terrible pit in her stomach.

Melog is getting head scritches right now. Catra releases a sigh of relief that borders on a sob and slumps in her seat, resting her forehead on her steering wheel for a moment as she practically pants from the relief. She closes her eyes, focusing on the cool surface against her forehead for a long moment as she gets her breathing under control.

She exhales slowly, straightening in her seat and getting out of her car. She locks it behind her, her heart still pounding in the wake of the shaking relief. Melog is in the living room, she can tell as she unlocks the front door and the phantom sensation of warm peace stops spreading through her body. Melog is no longer getting attention, but she doesn’t need her bond to tell her that as she swings open the door and is greeted with the sight of them bounding up to her, nosing at her shopping bags.

Catra isn’t paying a lot of attention to them. She is too busy just kind of _staring_ at Adora, sitting up on her couch and looking fucking _radiant_. She is wearing socks with slippers despite her shorts – she told Catra earlier, frowning and looking down at her hands, that her circulation seems a bit shit since shifting back – and despite looking like a total _idiot_ as she smiles sleepily at her, Catra’s heart is pounding in her throat again.

Catra abandons her shopping bags just within the front door, tossing them aside in favour of running into Adora’s arms. Melog complains about them making out in the living room, but they are going to have to get _used_ to it.

\--

“Missed me, huh?” Adora finally manages to tease when Catra moves down from her mouth to kiss along her neck. Catra growls at the words, mostly because they are _stupid_ , and bites harshly at the side of Adora’s neck. Adora cries out softly, a sound laced with surprise and desire, and tilts her head back. The access to her neck is all the permission Catra needs before she is mirroring the bite on the other side, even harsher this time.

She wants to leave fang marks. She wants anyone glancing at Adora to know who is fucking her. She wants to actually _fuck_ her. Catra slows down to press a gentle kiss to the spot, a soft apology that causes Adora to whimper. She pulls back just far enough to make eye contact, finding Adora’s vision hazy with lust. Catra can smell her desire in the air already.

“This okay, Adora?” she asks. Adora blinks at her, taking a moment to bring her eyes into focus. Her face is already flushed. After a moment she nods, but she hesitantly glances aside.

“Yeah, it is, as long as you know I’m staying either way,” Adora tells her. Catra feels her fur fluff up a little, knowing it must be visible to Adora from the way she glances down to her arms before making eye contact again. “I’m staying,” she promises again. Catra releases a _sound_ , broken and hungry, surging forward to kiss Adora again. Adora meets her readily, no hesitance as she releases a moan beneath the tug of Catra’s teeth on her lip, her hands already roaming over her body.

Melog wants them to either go to the bedroom or sleep on the couch and let _them_ have the bedroom. Adora has already slept on the couch enough. Catra nips her lip once before pulling back, her eyes boring down into Adora’s softly shining pair.

“Come to bed with me, Adora,” Catra says, _asks_ really. Adora smiles up at her, soft and horny. It is pretty much the only combination Catra wants to see on her again.

\--

Adora tries to ask her about the shopping bags – specifically if anything will melt or be a problem should Melog get into them – and Catra pulls back to narrow her eyes at her girlfriend in the middle of stripping her out of her sports bra.

“When _someone_ isn’t encouraging them, they don’t break into shit,” she rebukes, ducking to press a kiss to Adora’s nipple and then suck it into her mouth. Adora keens beneath her, writhing a little, and seems to give up on any other intelligent words as Catra twists her lips just a little _harshly_ against her chest. She hooks her fingers into Adora’s shorts as she does so, laving her tongue over the hard bud of her nipple and shivering at the feeling of it dragging against her tongue.

Catra has a thing for Adora’s tits and she always has. Adora _knows_ this after how quickly Catra was determined to get her hands on them during their first night together. She swears they have grown over the last few years. The sports bra was certainly straining in a way it didn’t used to. It really is a _damn shame_ that Adora insists on wearing bras. Catra never does, but she is also small enough to get away with it without pain, and they really _suck_ over fur.

Catra nips at the underside of Adora’s breast as she slides Adora’s shorts down her hips. Adora’s breaths are laboured, her girlfriend wriggling a little beneath her and gasping softly when Catra pulls her underwear away along with her shorts. It lets the cold night air in the bedroom hit her, and Catra can tell from scent alone she is fucking soaked.

Catra purrs into the softness of Adora’s breast, dragging her tongue along the mark she is the middle of darkening. The taste of salt and sweat lingers on Adora’s skin here, trapped by her bra all day, and it makes Catra shiver as her tail lashes, this physical evidence that Adora is with her, beneath her, _hers_. The soft pants as Catra’s hands roam over her thighs are more evidence, a beautiful symphony of desperation every time Catra’s fingers skate close to between her legs. Her _thighs_ are wet from the buildup while they reached the bed and stripped each other.

Catra forces herself to pull back from the bruise she is making, if only because she can feel it pulsing with every heartbeat now. She swallows as she observes Adora beneath her. Adora’s hair is splayed out across the pillow, a soft halo of gold as she watches Catra with half-lidded eyes. The subtle blue glow from them is tinging both of them in the darkness of the bedroom. Her lips are parted with her soft pants, her skin flushed down to her chest. Her neck is already ravaged, even more so than Catra’s, both in the number and _darkness_ of the marks.

Catra can’t completely ignore the scent of her own desire in the room. What she wants is _this_ , though – Adora spread out beneath her. She runs her hands over Adora’s smooth skin, watching Adora’s eyelids flutter as she drags her nails lightly over the skin that was once decorated with a patch of wiry, dirty blonde curls. Adora draws in a sharp breath and sends her a pleading look that _does_ things for her.

She kind of wants to get Adora begging for her, but she also doesn’t want to overwhelm her. That had _definitely_ been one of her revenge sex fantasies over the years, but she doesn’t want to have revenge sex. She just wants to have Adora. The thought calms her, a little. Despite her fear of abandonment, she is not afraid of _this_ , and she doesn’t want to hurt Adora.

Well, not outside of the dark marks littering her skin. Catra wants to leave _plenty_ of those. She reaches forward, capturing Adora’s chin between her thumb and forefinger, tilting her chin back just to feel the vibration of the whine that works its way up Adora’s throat. A fresh wave of desire hits the air as Adora twitches her hips again, her gaze holding Catra’s as her throat flexes.

“ _Catra_ …” she breathes, and she sounds utterly _wrecked_ , like Catra has already fucked her – has _been_ fucking her for hours. It takes all her willpower to not spring forward and _take_ her in response. Her ears strain forward at the sound, her eyes darting between the sight of Adora’s hungry eyes, her parted lips, her chest rapidly rising and falling, and her darkened throat.

“What do you want, Adora?” Catra asks her. The noise Adora makes shoots straight through Catra’s heart and into her _core_ , and high whine in the middle of a desperate gasp, Adora doing nothing to hold back how badly she _needs_ Catra in this moment. Catra shivers, tightening her grip a little on Adora’s chin and tilting it further back.

“Touch me, please,” Adora asks her, her eyes squeezing shut as she asks, apparently too flustered by the request to meet her eyes. Catra doesn’t need her to. She is not going to force Adora into more than she is ready to give right now, and she doesn’t need her to meet her gaze to know she _wants_ it. Catra drops Adora’s chin, letting it fall back into a comfortable resting position before shifting to stroke her cheek.

“Good girl. Do you want just my hand, or do you want me to _take_ you too?” Catra asks, her voice low and rough. Adora groans, her muscles flexing with a suppressed quiver. Her eyes flutter open as Catra drags her hand _down_ , not quite touching her but coming _close_. She whines softly, her head lifting to watch Catra’s fingertips drag along her skin. Catra parts her fingers as she drags, neatly swiping on either side of Adora’s folds. Adora mutters a soft curse.

“Make me yours,” she decides.

\--

Catra fucks Adora hard, makes her come _twice_ , crying out loudly each time, and it still isn’t enough for her. She hikes one of her legs over Adora’s hip, grinding their bodies together until they are coming together, panting and strung out. _Finally_ , Catra feels satiated, collapsing atop Adora and panting, nuzzling into her girlfriend’s throat.

She can’t say it, still. She doesn’t need to.

“I love you,” Adora slurs, exhausted from activity and the late hour. Catra rubs her cheek roughly against Adora’s jaw, her tail waving behind her above their tangled legs. Adora hums happily as Catra marks her.

“Should we let Melog back in?” Adora questions, moving right along, not forcing Catra to sit in her doubt for too long as she debates returning it. Catra breathes a grateful breath against Adora’s neck. In less than 20 hours, Catra is going to have to fight her best friend. Right now, she needs assurance. Melog is already asleep anyway, sprawled on the floor in front of the bedroom door in Adora’s old spot. Catra is going to have to get them a nice bed with the bet money.

“I just want you tonight,” Catra responds, nuzzling under Adora’s chin and marking her neck too for good measure. Adora makes a soft, touched noise in response, wrapping Catra tightly in her arms.

“I’m right here,” she assures. Catra swallows. That is hard enough to believe as is, but with the looming threat of Adora possibly coming into contact with Hordak tomorrow or even just overhearing Catra’s _reputation_ from the crowd, she isn’t so sure that will continue to be true.

\--

Catra’s pre-fight strategy used to be eating a filling meal and thinking about Shadow Weaver or Adora to get herself pumped up and angry. This fight isn’t about anger, but she still never pictured _this_ as how she would spend the afternoon before the fight.

She is on the couch with Adora, sitting in nothing but a loose pair of shorts as Adora brushes down her back and hums. Adora asked her, cautiously as they ate breakfast, if she could brush her. Catra’s fur is short enough she could get away with not doing it outside of shed season, but it is something she kind of loves, especially when she is not the one doing it. She couldn’t hide how her ears perked up and her tail immediately began to sway. Adora had smiled at that.

“I wanted to, when I was a wolf, but-“ she cuts off with a shrug. Catra did a light pass to help her winter coat come in two weeks ago. Princess had pawed and snuffled at her as she did so. She thought Princess was jealous, maybe wanting to be brushed herself, but when she tried, Princess shied away.

Catra chuckles at the memory, leaning into the path of the brush and purring. Adora hums happily, dropping kisses along her shoulders and pausing just to cuddle her close occasionally. It is the kind of thing they used to do late at night. Shadow Weaver got her a shed brush only because she was annoyed by Catra’s fur getting everywhere in the warmer months and she made that clear, but Catra still loved when Adora would brush out her coat.

“Can I do your tummy? It’s so soft,” Adora asks, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck. Catra’s purr rolls louder as she shifts down the couch and then sprawls backwards over Adora’s lap. She looks up at her girlfriend to find Adora looking down at her practically with hearts in her eyes. Catra blushes even as she goes limp over Adora’s legs.

“Brush,” she demands, because she can’t _handle_ that look. Not anymore, not yet – just not _right now_. Adora still looks far too affectionate, but she turns her attention to brushing out the thicker fluff over Catra’s heart and then down her stomach. Catra wiggles happily, getting settled in Adora’s lap and purring like an engine at the satisfying scratch and tug of the brush working over her. Scorpia has brushed her occasionally in the last few years, but never _everywhere_ like this, and though it felt better than doing it herself, it still didn’t feel like when Adora does it.

It is perfect, the relaxing drag of the brush, Adora’s free hand immediately following in its wake to pet her and brush the loosened fur away. Melog is a little jealous, but they drape over Catra’s feet as she purrs and turns her head to nuzzle into Adora’s stomach. It makes Adora giggle, no doubt a bit ticklish, but Catra isn’t stopping for anything.

It is the exact distraction and relaxation she needs before the fight. It is only a few hours away now, and every part of Catra is dreading it.

\--

Catra parks a block from the fight. She would park _further_ , but she can’t guarantee how well she will be able to walk a distance afterwards. She is in her old ring attire, two-tone pants and a tank top with a cropped vest, the word _Wildcat_ sewn across the back shoulders with patches. She has a long coat on over it, both to help her slip into the theatre unnoticed and to protect against the winter chill in the air.

Adora doesn’t mind the weather as they walk with their heads down, her arm around Catra’s waist. They are early – they have to be if they want to get in before the crowd – and they go in through the stage door. DT is nowhere in sight, but some of the ring security escort them to the dressing room. Adora has Catra’s phone. She glances at it as Catra ditches her coat and begins to shake off the cold, fluffing up her fur again.

“Glimmer is here. What should I tell her?” Adora asks her. Catra’s tail lashes a little. Adora called Glimmer that morning and asked her to come as backup to the fight. Glimmer had seemed _eager_ for the chance to possibly practice her magic over the phone, but Catra is still wary that the coven heir would truly be delinquent.

“Tell her to come to stage door and say she’s here for Catra. Fans don’t know my real name. I’ll have you both seated front row before the crowds start pouring in,” Catra responds, setting into her stretches. Adora relays the message, and a few minutes later the sparkly eyesore of a sorceress is being escorted into the room, eyeing the security guard directing her until he has confirmed Glimmer _really_ is supposed to be here and leaves.

“So, this is what you do for a living, huh?” Glimmer asks, nonchalantly as she eyes the room up. She is clearly holding back. Catra feels her fur bristle at the judgement. She scowls as she turns her back on the sorceress and pulls her mask out of her bag.

“No, I make drinks for a living. I’m doing a friend a favour, that’s all,” Catra tells her, voice gruff as she fixes her mask over her temples in the mirror.

“Uh huh,” Glimmer responds, disbelieving. Catra narrows her eyes at the woman in the mirror. Adora sends Glimmer a kind of pleading look, with causes Glimmer to sigh and finally look her way. “’S cool, I guess,” she offers, shrugging, and it hits Catra like a ton of bricks that Glimmer is _jealous_. Delinquent does not begin to cover it, apparently.

“It’s brutal, usually, but tonight we have handicaps in place. It is a last hurrah, that’s all. Come on, people will be let into the stands soon and you want to be seated before then,” Catra responds. It is not anything to be jealous of, but _hopefully_ tonight’s match will not be bad enough to truly convince Glimmer of that.

\--

Adora and Glimmer are sat right next to Catra’s entrance, just feet from the ring, and Catra leaves Adora with express instructions not to talk to _anyone_ , and to wave off any attempts at conversation as well.

“If the crowd gets violent, you duck in the backstage entrance and we meet up at stage door, okay? It happens, sometimes,” Catra orders her. Glimmer looks _intrigued_ while Adora looks nervous, nodding as she reaches up to take Catra’s hand.

“Stay safe?” she asks, her voice a little desperate and eyes pleading. Catra feels her ears twitch as she fights down a blush.

“I will. Just keep your heads down, and don’t listen to what anyone tells you, not even the ring security. They work for Hordak as much as DT,” Catra warns her. She means not to listen to instructions by others truly, but she also _really_ doesn’t want Adora overhearing some things from the crowd. One thing in particular. Adora is clearly anxious, but she nods. Behind them, the call goes up that doors open in one minute.

Catra is forced to leave. She darts forward to press a kiss into Adora’s hair and then quickly pulls back, turning to head back behind the stage. As she turns, she catches sight of reptilian yellow eyes shining at her through the window of the DT’s office. She makes eye contact with DT and is surprised to find their expression largely blank but for the intense eye contact they are making with her.

They are just trying to eye-fuck her again, probably. Maybe even mad that she brought her girlfriend. That is what Catra assures herself as she ducks back behind the curtain.

\--

Catra hates this. She always did, just as much as Adora does, truthfully. She stands on her cue backstage, listening to the crowd beginning to cheer. Catra knows this cheer. It is a _bad_ one, a crowd thirsty for violence. It is recoverable, but she and Scorpia will have to be careful. They need to feed it without building it higher or _disappointing_ it and risking the crowd growing angry. She has seen it happen before. Never at one of her matches – they were too bloody to leave a crowd disappointed – but Entrapta had to _save_ Scorpia from an unsatiated crowd once.

Catra was up next that night. She more than gave the crowd what they asked for. Now, she makes eye contact with Scorpia, waiting on her own cue, and sends her a _we need to be careful_ look. Scorpia nods, her expression grim. The announcement goes out for _Scorpia, the Stinger from the Arid Plains_ , and Scorpia rushes forward, out into the view of the hungry crowd.

As they cheer – and boo – upon her entrance, Catra realizes very suddenly what DT was actually warning them about. It was not about Hordak showing up. That was always a risk and they all knew it. It was the type of crowd that would be attracted by thinking that was a possibility. Even if they thought it was a plotline, it would seem likely to be a violent and bloody one.

Tonight is going to be worse than she thought, more violent and bloody than either of them ever planned if only so they can walk out of here unscathed by anyone but each other. If the crowd rises up and the match has to be called off, no one gets the returned bet money, and they never negotiated for a cut of the ticket sales DT will still bring in.

“From the shadows of the Whispering Woods, what is that slinking out?” DT calls, voice exuberant. Catra’s tail lashes as she launches herself off her mark and forward into the bright lights of the floor. “It’s the ferocious Wildcat!”

Catra’s entrance is dramatic because she is half-blind for most of it, her eyes forced to adjust to the bright lights they were never intended for given the _nocturnal species_ thing. She launches out at full tilt, on all fours, darting out until she hits one of the ringside-barriers, rebounding off it until she hits another, darting quickly back and forth across the lead up to the ring using only her sense of direction as she blinks her eyes rapidly to adjust. She is moving too fast for anyone to notice, and by the time she reaches the ring she can see again to launch herself into it, landing expertly on one of the posts and crouching there as the crowd cheers and jeers.

They are already chanting her name. Scorpia meets her gaze from the other side of the ring and they both _know_. This is Catra’s crowd, not Scorpia’s. It never mattered what promo DT did. Once the word got out, everybody was expecting one of Hordak’s bloodbaths. Scorpia’s expression is one of grim acceptance. She inclines her head slightly. It is the only signal they need. They are throwing out their plans for this match. Tonight is about survival.

“Now, a reminder, the win condition tonight is a three-count pin. Wildcat is not allowed to use the claws that built her _deadly_ reputation, but Scorpia’s pincers and stinger are in full play. And with that, let the match…” there is a dramatic pause in DT’s narration, the tension building as Catra and Scorpia stare each other down, dread filling them both, “ _begin_.”

Catra launches herself at her best friend.

\--

Neither of them have bled – yet. Both of them have bruises blossoming, and Catra has just barely missed the swing of Scorpia’s tail twice now, but so far the crowd has not grown _angrier_ due to the lack of blood. The hits they have been landing have been brutal, though Catra can tell Scorpia is holding back, and she knows the crowd is starting to pick up on it too. There are rumblings of displeasure beginning beneath the roars when they clash. Blood needs to be drawn soon, but they also need to drag this out as long as possible to get the most in-match bets possible placed.

Catra does a series of flips backwards, landing on one of the posts again, to avoid a movement from Scorpia she telegraphed a little too hard. She knew if she did Catra would flip away and she could throw all her weight into it. The crowd jeers in disappointment. Catra makes eye contact with Scorpia. They both know what needs to be done. Scorpia’s eyes flare, martyr in her gaze, but Catra _won’t_ injure one of her friends again.

The next time Scorpia telegraphs a move, Catra takes it. It spends her flying back into the ropes. The crowd _screams_ , delight and horror as Catra’s ears ring and Scorpia’s eyes go wide with shock that the hit connected. Before the crowd has time to pick up on Scorpia’s suddenly-frozen state – something that would surely turn them hostile in an instant if they began to suspect the fight was fixed – the doors to the theatre fling open. Catra is still picking herself up, but her head whips around at the sudden movement in the corner of her eye and she immediately locks gazes with Hordak’s cold, red eyes.

The vampire has only grown more gaunt since she last saw him. Not getting enough blood from draining his fighters, maybe. His face is a stone mask of hatred. He is flanked on either side. To his right is Octavia, the eyepatch Catra gave her four years ago fixed over the mess of scar tissue. The crowd is roaring, DT is saying something over the intercom, but none of it _matters_ , not as Catra’s gaze falls to Hordak’s left.

 _Lonnie_.

Catra stumbles backwards, leaning against the ropes for support. It can’t be. It _can’t_ be. Catra felt Lonnie’s gut clench around her fingers as her claws tore in, hooked, and then pulled _out_. She listened to Lonnie scream and watched the light in her eyes die as she collapsed on the ground and DT joyously called Catra the victor. Blood was pooling at her feet, her friend and coworker already _dead_ even as the referee grabbed Catra’s wrist and raised it up, thrusting Catra into the limelight so ring security could quietly grab Lonnie’s body and drag it away while the crowd screamed and DT threw in an assurance that a healer would have her back in the ring in a few weeks.

Catra heard the rumours, of course. Lonnie made a full recovery and got back in the ring, but she assumed it was _lies_ Hordak spread to cover his ass should anyone report the murder they paid to witness. Catra had never intended to do it, but they were both going after each other with all their might, and Lonnie pulled an unexpected move that had her running right into Catra’s claws.

Catra is gasping for breath, staring into the hardened yet _blank_ expression of her friend who she _knows_ to be dead. Hordak raises a finger, shouts some no-doubt melodramatic lines, and then Lonnie and Octavia are both darting forward from his sides, lunging for the ring. Lonnie’s eyes barely spark as she shifts into her hyena skin – they remain dull brown, glowing darkly but never flaring amber, and Catra knows.

She knows that darkness. She grew up surrounded by it, after all. She is still clutching the rope, still in shock and _sick_ , by the time Lonnie hits the ring. Octavia is just behind her. Catra is in no shape to defend herself, not as she looks at the friend she killed and _knows_ is worse than dead.

She doesn’t have to fight for herself. The golden glow from behind her is all she needs to know what is happening. The roar of the beast launching from ringside drowns out the violent jeering of the crowd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Catra's ring attire.](https://n7punk.tumblr.com/post/639588243726336000/fanart-for-the-amazing-n7punk-and-their-fic-a) (There's been some really cool fanart for Strange Disease you can find in my ['strange disease' tag](https://n7punk.tumblr.com/tagged/strange-disease) on my tumblr!)  
> Lonnie is brown hyena specifically, btw, because I love them and their shaggy floof. [Here’s a youtube video](https://youtu.be/HlxOEaKJHI8?t=19) of a jack russell terrier playing with a brown hyena she raised.


	9. Interlude IV: The Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CWs for: violence and character death (though I don’t show it).  
> Yes, Adora has been feeling this guilty for getting stuck the entire time. She’s a martyr, alright.

The match is as bad as Adora expected. She has to fist her hands in her lap and repeat _Catra chose this, Catra chose this_ like a mantra as she watches Catra give and take blows. Adora feels fucking sick watching Catra hurt. She can see the desperation in her entire body, trying to win, trying to give the crowd what they want.

This is what Catra did in her absence. As much as Adora hates seeing it, she can’t look _away_ either. She deserves to see it – to force herself to watch a fraction of the pain Catra has been through. She still nearly shifts the second Catra goes flying into the ropes. If Catra didn’t haul herself back up immediately, Adora doesn’t think she would be able to hold the beast back.

And then the entry doors, sealed since before the fight began, burst open with a commotion that can be heard even over the crowd. There is a small _crowd_ outside the doors, but only three people enter. Adora has never seen Catra’s old manager, but she doesn’t need to in order to recognize him. All she needs is to see the dramatic entrance and the sick expression of fear on Catra’s face and she _knows_. The second the women flanking him start forward, Adora is on her feet.

She has faced threats as the beast before. Other wild animals like boars and bears, a vampiric nymph hiding amongst the trees, an elemental once that stunk of human blood. She knows how to fight, how to channel her nature and breathe out fury. The glow overtakes her before the ghoul has finished shifting. The wolf launches forward at the same time the hyena does.

Rage pours out in a vicious roar as she lands in the ring between Catra and the other shifter, the cloth covering ripping beneath her claws. The hyena is not even half her size, and skitters to the side as Adora comes between her and her _pack_. Adora snarls, not hesitating to launch forward. Her fur is crackling with golden energy as she latches onto the startled hyena’s shoulder.

“ _Don’t hurt her!_ ” Catra screams, a desperate plea. Adora doesn’t hesitate – she doesn’t know how to in a fight – but she also can’t disobey her pack leader. Her fangs are sunk into the hyena, keening out in pain beneath her powerful jaws. Werewolves are more than just _beasts_ though – they are healers, imbued with enough light that they can recover from wounds instantly.

Adora has never healed anyone but herself. She doesn’t know if any werewolf ever _has_ , but she can’t ignore Catra’s desperation. The heat of magic overtakes her, like it does every time she shifts, but she isn’t reverting, not now. The air is crackling as she jerks her head and tosses her opponent aside only a few feet. The hyena is unconscious before she hits into the ground.

Her shoulder is not bleeding, and her body is warm. Adora doesn’t have time for her as she turns on the finfolk vaulting into the ring. She smells of death, rage, and _fear_. She saw what the beast did to her companion. It is hard _not_ to see the golden light shining off her. The woman says some words that are lost to Adora in the screams all around them. Some are excited – others are afraid. Some people are fleeing the battle, but not Adora, and not the finfolk. She doesn’t know how to – the dead follow the orders of their necromancer.

Adora launches forward, slamming into the woman’s chest with all the might of her paws and feeling her ribs _crack_ when she crushes them into the ground. Adora was ordered not to hurt the other ghoul, but she doesn’t have the light left to heal this one. The woman screams beneath her weight. Adora ignores her, howling a question herself.

_Her? Do I spare her?_

There is no response from her pack leader. It is a response in itself. This creature, too, stinks of death and internal decay. She is a ghoul – she is already dead. Any living creature would have passed out beneath Adora from the agony of her injuries, but ghouls cannot respond to pain like the living do. This is a mercy killing.

Adora turns back to her pack leader. No blood drips from her muzzle – the dead do not bleed, their blood lying still in their veins. Catra is hunched over the body of the hyena, whispering fervently to the creature as she quickly pets over her spine ridge. Scorpia is still here. Hordak is still here. Adora must rely on Scorpia to comfort her pack, because she trusts no one else to keep them safe.

She turns towards the vampire. They make eye contact. He is enraged, but he cannot hide his fear, even lacking any scent signals like all the rest of his kind. Adora snarls at him, her voice thunderous. It is met with screams from the crowd, all fear now as they realize this is _danger_. The body at her feet is all the proof there needs to be.

The vampire realizes too. He turns tail and flees. He has more backup waiting for him outside the doors, Adora senses them and smells more death, but he doesn’t even try to call on them. He never accounted for her when he launched this attack.

\--

The crowd tries to flee as well. Adora circles the ring, snarling at all who dare approach but Glimmer. Glimmer makes it inside even as the crowd riots around them, drawing a rune on the floor as Scorpia and Catra crouch over the hyena, still trying to rouse her. The room is pandemonium, screaming and cheering, the commentator trying to bring order, but it is all too loud for any words to be detected.

Glimmer whistles. Adora knows that sound. She follows it to Glimmer every full moon, when she reaches the Moon Ritual and can’t pick the sorceress out from the gathered crowd. Adora abandons her circling, leaping inside the rune where the rest of her pack waits. Glimmer doesn’t hesitate to slam her hand down on the rune, activating the spell.

Light envelopes them. They land in the middle of the parking lot outside.

\--

Glimmer drives them in her SUV, under Scorpia’s direction, back to her tea shop, because apparently it is the closest secure location. Scorpia’s bike and Catra’s car got left behind, but she is in no shape to drive, and the car is far enough from the theatre that it should be safe. Scorpia’s bike is backstage. They have no chance of getting to it right now.

Adora is forced to take up the entire backseat, while the hyena – Lonnie, apparently – is laid out in the trunk. She is uninjured and breathing, but still unconscious. She is also full of light, _alive_ but not quite, but Adora doesn’t know how to communicate that in her current form, so she just hangs her head over the backseat and watches the fellow shifter as she breathes in her sleep.

Catra is shaken. Glimmer tries to question her and Adora growls, the sound reverberating through the car and causing Glimmer to fall silent as Catra curls in on herself in the next row of seats, sat beside Scorpia. Adora wants to comfort her, but Catra ordered her to watch Lonnie. She just has to follow her pack leader. She can’t tell her Lonnie is fine. Resting, recovering, her organs slowly waking after a long sleep. The light takes time to permeate, to catch alight and burn on its own.

Glimmer drives them at _Glimmer_ speeds, and they reach the tea shop in just a few minutes. Scorpia hurriedly unlocks the front doors while Adora snuffles at Catra’s stomach the moment they unload from the car. Catra clutches at her, expression still a bit blank. Adora hates that she can’t tell Catra it is _okay_. She nudges up, carefully catching the edge of Catra’s cropped jacket in her teeth and tugging on it.

Catra doesn’t startle, but she does blink down at Adora with some light returning to her eyes. Adora releases her jacket, flopping out her tongue and panting as she wags her tail, trying to project _happy_ and _okay_. Catra swallows, staring at her, and then glances towards where Glimmer is circling around to the trunk. She looks back to Adora, her expression a little pleading.

“She’s okay?” she asks, quietly, her voice hopeful and afraid. Adora lets out a low, quiet bark, wagging her tail harder as she nudges against Catra’s stomach. Catra releases a shaking breath, wrapping her arms around the back of Adora’s head. “ _Thank you_ ,” she breathes. Adora whines and wiggles her head against Catra, drawing her closer. She wants to be human, to hold Catra and promise to protect her, but she has never felt less balanced in her _life_ after seeing Catra like that.

“I, uh, can’t lift a hyena. She’s like a hundred pounds,” Glimmer points out in the background. Adora and Catra are forced to part, but Adora takes a risk on licking Catra’s cheek once to clear the tears there, earning her a choked attempt at a laugh. Adora trots over to the back of the car. She puts her paws on the back bumper, leaning in to lift the hyena up by her considerable scruff.

Lonnie doesn’t stir in her sleep. Adora doubts she will for a few more hours. Healing takes a lot of energy, as does awakening the body from a hibernation that was meant to be _permanent_. Catra looks on anxiously as Adora carries Lonnie up to the shop door that Scorpia has managed to get open. Scorpia ushers them inside and off the street before anyone can spot them and question what the hell is going on.

\--

Adora likes Emily. She noses at her, snuffling in the direction of the dark spirit. No one else can see her orb, but that is okay. Emily is worried about the bedraggled crew spread around Scorpia’s one-room flat, a bedroom, living room, and kitchenette all wrapped in one. Adora knows they are here because of Emily, but she also knows Emily doesn’t want to _hurt_. She doesn’t even want to break. She just _wants_ and only knows one way to communicate. Adora knows what that is like herself, and Catra is like that sometimes too.

Catra is settled on the floor, leaned back against Scorpia’s counter, wincing a little with each breath and stroking between Lonnie’s ears. Lonnie has her head in Catra’s lap, and okay, Adora is a _little_ jealous, but she also is the one who hurt Catra’s friend, so she is trying to accept their current positioning. Besides, she likes being next to Emily. Emily is dark and her influence is helping to balance Adora’s light after she lost control of it back in the ring.

“Well, the good news is I’ve figured out at least eighty percent of Adora’s deal watching _that_ ,” Glimmer says from where she is sprawled across Scorpia’s armchair, sounding a little winded. Adora perks her head, finally turning away from Emily to eye Glimmer. Catra is also staring at the sorceress. Glimmer catches them looking and weakly waves her hand. She is completely limp in the wake of the adrenaline rush.

“She is a direwolf, but let me do a bit more research before I commit to the answer on why her shifting is like this,” Glimmer says, sounding exhausted. She lolls her head to the side to look towards Catra. “Can you tell me what the hell is going on with your werehyena there?” she asks, pointedly looking down at Lonnie’s slumbering form. Catra’s ears pin back as she looks down at the sleeping creature. She swallows.

“She was a fellow fighter. _Was_. We both miscalculated during a fight and she ran straight into my claws. She died. I _watched_ her die,” Catra whispers, lifting her gaze to make eye contact with Scorpia. Scorpia’s expression is grim as she nods. Catra growls lowly, her ears pinned back. “When you get in with Hordak, you know the deal. Anything that didn’t threaten your career was your burden to bear. He said he had a healer, but she was part of the coven and couldn’t risk being associated with the fights, so he only took life-threatening injuries to her,” Catra says, bitterly, glaring back down at the recovering-ghoul in her lap.

“We were so fucking stupid. I was his top fighter. I never _needed_ to see her, but if he really had a healer, he would have been able to save Octavia’s eye,” Catra spits out. Her tail is _lashing_ , hatred, fear, and guilt all rolling off her. Adora whines, raising herself up from her spot and shaking her coat out before she trots over, sitting next to Catra so she can nose at her in assurance. Catra releases a shaking breath and slumps into her side, leaning into Adora for support that she is happy to give.

“How many are dead, do you think?” Scorpia asks, quietly. Catra snorts bitterly, turning her face into Adora’s fur.

“Fifty to a hundred percent of his cage fighters. _Fuck_ , all those injuries I told myself would be fine… They all fucking died. They’re all _ghouls_ now,” Catra curses, her voiced cracked and wet as she buries herself deeper in Adora’s coat, as if to run from all that has happened. Adora whimpers. All she wants is to be able to comfort Catra right now, and if she was more balanced _maybe_ -

Emily is in front of her, offering. Offering to balance her, to exchange energies. Emily will have more energy to manifest, and Adora will have a shot at maybe shifting back and comforting Catra, finally able to tell her what happened to Lonnie and what _is_ happening with Emily.

Adora noses forward, and Emily meets her in turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With this update I am now switching to a twice a week schedule (Tuesday/Wednesday and Saturday/Sunday), but I wanted to get this up first just to show that Lonnie lived. I wouldn’t feel comfortable killing off a POC who doesn’t die in canon, nor _should_ I.


	10. 6. Immortality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like with, uh, everything, I’m doing my own spin on Valkyries a little bit. They decide people’s fate in battle by placing deathmarks and victory shields upon individuals, and have a strong connection to the dead that helps them escort spirits to the other side.

Adora’s coat glows, her eyes flash, and then Catra’s – thankfully clothed – girlfriend is sitting next to her, immediately turning to wrap Catra in her arms. Catra feels her breathing speed up, but even as a panic attack threatens to consume her and her tail lashes, she slumps into Adora’s arms.

Adora knows what she has done now. She knows what Catra has done is far worse than she ever thought it was. She thought it was _just_ Lonnie. That was already bad enough, and yet Adora is still holding her. Catra is crying again as she leans into Adora, wrapping her arms around her girlfriend’s back. It is a bit awkward with Lonnie’s head in her lap between them, but Catra isn’t about to move.

“You didn’t know. It’s okay. You _didn’t know_ ,” Adora promises her, pressing kisses into her hair. They have an audience and Catra certainly shouldn’t be breaking down in _public_ , but she still cries as Adora assures her.

No one pressures them, for a while. Scorpia and Glimmer are muttering to one another and Catra catches enough of it to know Glimmer is asking about this healer of Hordak’s, but the truth is neither of them _know_. Scorpia wasn’t one of his cage fighters and barely knew any of them outside of Catra and Lonnie. Neither of them has spoken to Rogelio since Lonnie’s death, but he was a boxer like Scorpia and likely doesn’t know more. No one ever saw the healer if they could still walk, and Catra was skilled enough to never get injuries bad enough to pass out after a fight.

That was the only way you got brought to her. Her identity had to be kept secret, after all. Catra had her suspicions about the woman being a higher up in the coven, maybe even the coven leader, since her identity seemed so important to protect. Now she knows all her distrust in the coven was misplaced. The healer was a secret because she was no healer, and even someone completely unattuned to magic would be able to feel the dark magic coming off a necromancer powerful enough to make ghouls that pass as sentient.

Eventually the adrenaline crash and Catra’s tears begin to ease off as Adora strokes her hair. Catra is far from stable, but she has things she has to know that are more urgent than the comfort. Her fur is standing on end, uneasy and itching even over her injuries, so she doesn’t pull away from Adora, seeking the comfort of her touch.

“Lonnie?” she whispers into Adora’s shoulder, afraid of the answer. Adora draws in a breath, and Glimmer falls silent in the middle of questioning Scorpia.

“She’s a lich, now. I didn’t mean to, I just poured healing magic into her, but healing only works on the living so… yeah. Her body is waking up, but it is going to take a while,” Adora murmurs to her. Catra jerks back, staring up at Adora in shock. Adora looks a bit flustered and a bit hopeful, peering down at her like she is trying to unravel if that was what Catra wanted to hear.

In truth, it is the last thing Catra expected, but it is also the best possible outcome. Once someone is truly dead, especially dead for a _while_ , there is no coming back to life. After a few seconds, maybe, if you have a skilled enough healer, but it has been _two_ _years_ since Lonnie died and was risen as a ghoul. Living undead is her best option. It is a _great_ option. Lonnie will need magical guidance and assistance from the coven, but she has free will separate of her necromancer now, and she has a _beating heart_.

“ _You accidentally made someone a lich_?” Glimmer hisses, an incredulous demand. Catra can’t blame her. She and Adora probably know more about necromancy than Glimmer does given how they were raised and the general taboo on the topic. The tiers of undead are confusing to a casual observer. Only the first tier, husks and shadow wisps, are legal, and they require a simple amount of magic to create. More so when you dip into _illegal_ territory to raise sentient species, but that extra energy is what Shadow Weaver fostered her two wards for.

Lich are _living_ undead, risen again, given a second run at life. The power to do so is immense, however. There is a reason lichs must be sanctioned by their local coven so their transition can be overseen. Without enough power sources and safeties in place, one source could be drained beyond recovery. Catra swallows, looking down at Lonnie and carefully slipping her hand beneath her, sliding through her long fur to find the barrel of her chest. She presses her hand there, holding her breath. The thud is weak and slow, but the rhythm is even.

“She was a ghoul before and her heart is beating now, Glimmer. She _has_ to be a lich. Octavia was a ghoul too, wasn’t she?” Catra asks, looking up to make eye contact with Adora. Adora’s face draws together and she hesitates. “The finfolk,” Catra clarifies. Adora winces and nods.

“I wouldn’t have put her down otherwise. Whatever I did with Lonnie, I couldn’t do it twice in one night. They were both ghouls. The vampire wasn’t their master, I don’t think,” Adora agrees, nodding. Catra looks to Glimmer and finds her staring at them. Adora follows her gaze and winces again. “I guess I learned something as a necromancer’s apprentice after all?” she tries.

Glimmer takes a deep breath, looking down at her hands. Beside her, a shadow moves and Catra forces herself not to flinch. _Emily_. The presence of the dark spirit explains why her skin is crawling. Catra hunches her shoulders, tucking deeper into Adora’s arms. At least the poltergeist doesn’t seem to be _doing_ anything right now, just lurking in the shadows and listening.

“There is a reason all necromancers are required to register with their local covens. This puppeteering, this utter disregard for life… It is gruesome. I’m going to have to go to my mother to pursue this. You won’t get in trouble for the fighting – stopping _this_ is far bigger,” Glimmer says. She has a thousand-yard stare as she looks down at the hyena in Catra’s lap. Catra swallows.

“And the girl I killed?” she challenges. Too much of her self-hatred slips into her voice. She sounds angry. She kind of _is_. Knowing what she did to Lonnie has hurt her _so much_ over the years, during her career and especially _after_ , once she was away from the culture of destruction where it could be overlooked as a hazard of the job.

Glimmer’s mouth sets in a fine line as she looks down to the slumbering werecreature.

“It was an accident. And I don’t see a dead body,” she says.

\--

Glimmer swears Catra’s involvement with how Lonnie came to _need_ raising will stay between them. She will tell Angella everything she knows about the underground matches, but if it doesn’t expose Catra’s personal involvement, she can’t tell Glimmer to hold back. Raising the dead is despicable and it must be stopped. Even growing up surrounded by husks and shadows, Catra never grew truly desensitized to their horror, and it is even worse knowing that she once worked with these people, fought beside and _against_ them.

Eventually, they decide to talk again in the morning, Glimmer driving Catra and Adora home. Catra had feared she would teleport them, but apparently the spell drains all of her available power, so Catra at least doesn’t have to go through _that_ unpleasant experience again. They leave Lonnie, still unconscious, on Scorpia’s couch. If she even remembers who she is when she wakes up, she will remember Scorpia at least as a friendly face. They do their best to assure Melog when they get home, but they are both exhausted and collapse quickly into sleep.

Catra wakes before Adora. Her bedroom has no windows – the _sleeping past noon_ thing makes them a no-go – but she doesn’t need much more than dull glow of her digital clock and light leaking beneath the door to make out Adora’s shape in the dark. Even with her night vision, she can’t make out enough details to count her non-existent freckles or anything like that, but she can watch the peaceful slack of Adora’s face and her side steadily rising and falling.

She has one arm thrown over Catra, holding her like she has done pretty much non-stop since returning to human form. Catra shivers a little and presses closer, ducking to rub her cheek along Adora’s shoulder and purring softly when Adora responds, even in her sleep, by tugging her closer.

Maybe Catra is naïve. Maybe she is finally starting to heal. Maybe she is just _tired_ , tired of being heartbroken and angry with herself. Regardless of the reason, there is a part of her heart that says if Adora didn’t leave her after finding about Lonnie, what could Catra possibly do to drive her away now? Lonnie has haunted her as surely as Adora’s loss did. Catra blamed herself for Adora leaving, but she _hated_ herself for what happened with Lonnie, even on the days when she could call it manslaughter in her head rather than murder.

Issues can’t be solved in a day, or three, or a fucking _week_ , but if she ever needed a vote of confidence that Adora isn’t leaving this time, that was it. It wasn’t just Lonnie. It was seeing the beast come out, a mountain of golden fur and muscle, and still follow her orders, managing to shift back just to comfort her.

Even in her sleep, Adora holds her close.

\--

Catra slips out of bed to use the bathroom and feels a spike of concern from Melog as she heads to the sink to wash her hands. She hesitates. Melog _was_ sleeping across their feet in the bed. Catra had to nudge out from under them to leave for the bathroom, but it seems a bit late for that to have roused them, and this emotion is closer to _panic_.

Melog is crawling up Adora’s chest to comfort her. Catra lets out a breath and turns the sink on, letting Adora hear the running water and know that she is just in the next room. She would panic if she woke without Adora, but she had only been planning on being gone for a few moments. She shuts off the sink after a few moments and heads back into the bedroom.

Adora’s eyes snap to her immediately. She has her arms wrapped around Melog like a teddy bear. The big cat is splayed over her chest, pinning her in place and nuzzling under her jaw. Relief hits Adora’s expression as Melog lifts their head and looks over to Catra. They mew a _you’re welcome_ as they stand, shaking their mane out and plodding to the end of the bed to curl up again.

“I just went to the bathroom,” Catra assures as she approaches the bed again. Adora reaches for her immediately and Catra lets herself be guided down into her arms. Adora tucks Catra beneath her chin, tangling their legs and cradling her close.

“I panicked. You weren’t here and I thought _what if Hordak…_ but then Melog was calm, and the water turned on,” Adora tells her, softly. Catra draws in a slow breath and then nods against Adora’s neck. In truth, she has been worried about Hordak finding her before. She understands Adora’s fears. She presses a soft kiss to Adora’s neck and then turns her cheek, rubbing a mark against her jaw. Adora lets out a soft breath.

“You know I wouldn’t go down without a fight, Adora,” she says, and then bites her lip. Not _really_ reassuring, but it does make Adora chuckle a little as she cradles her close. Adora presses a kiss against the base of each ear, so she didn’t mess up too badly. Well, she has fucked up tremendously, but not just now. Catra presses in closer to Adora’s neck. She wants to hide, and never admit anything, taking every one of her dirty secrets to the grave, but – now those secrets are back in her life and could very well be a threat to Adora.

“Adora, I- I lied before, about Hordak. I mean I didn’t, he just- Some of his fighters were boxers like Scorpia. They did fights like you saw Scorpia and I doing. But I wasn’t. I was a cage fighter. And I didn’t know it then, but I would bet a lot of my opponents-“ Catra cuts off, biting at the side of Adora’s neck just to _shut herself up_. Adora makes a soft, distressed noise, and reaches up to run her hand down Catra’s back.

“I know, Catra. I knew that even before I shifted back. You said you had things you didn’t want to tell me,” Adora says, her voice gentle as she presses another pair of kisses against Catra’s ears. Catra whines, releasing Adora’s neck and licking over the spot for a few moments in apology.

“I was talking about how bad the fights were. And Lonnie. It- was an accident. She has this flip move she used to do. I thought if I went in with my claws she would try it, and I could catch her in the throat with my other hand and stun her. But she tried to land a hit at the same time and ran right into my claws. She was dead before she hit the mat,” Catra whispers, her voice as quiet as she can make it and still form words. Adora makes a soft, almost apologetic sound, her hands running soothingly down Catra’s back.

“You didn’t know. It’s alright,” Adora promises her, voice soft. Catra kind of wants to cry. It _can’t_ be.

“And if it isn’t?” she asks, because she doesn’t believe it, she _can’t_. Adora’s squeezes her hands on her back, ducking her head to nuzzle down into Catra’s hair.

“It is. And I’m staying, Catra. I might not have known about Lonnie, but I did about the violence, and I know you never would have _wanted_ to do that. I’m with you, through all of this,” Adora promises her.

Now, Catra does cry.

\--

A group chat titled “One fucked up night” has been formed by the time Catra and Adora finally haul themselves out of bed for breakfast. Scorpia keeps them abreast of the fact that Lonnie is _still_ sleeping, and Glimmer assures them that seems to be normal for newly-awakening lichs from her quick research. They decide to meet at Scorpia’s place in the evening if nothing has changed, but Catra has to make a detour first.

“Are you sure about this?” Adora asks her a dozen times before they even leave, and _again_ after the cab drops them off at her car. Catra points at the passenger side with a glare and Adora reluctantly gets in the car.

“I still need to get my shit from the dressing room. Scorpia needs her bike back, and I am _going_ to have words with DT. There is no way that fucker didn’t pick up on something,” Catra tells her when she has flung herself into the driver’s seat. Adora just looks _anxious_ as Catra drives them over to the theatre. She parks out back, ready for a getaway if needed and close to stage door. She certainly isn’t walking in theatre’s front doors. She wouldn’t put it past Hordak to be waiting for her.

Stage door is locked when she tries it. It doesn’t deter her. The fight was rough, but it got interrupted before they could do real damage, and she doesn’t have enough lasting injuries to keep her from kicking down the door, even if her entire body aches. Anger is enough motivation.

It is midday on a Saturday. The backstage area is empty, at least near the door. As they make their way to the dressing rooms, Adora close on her heels and blatantly nervous, they can make out distant and dramatic monologues coming from the direction of the stage. A theatre production rehearsing then, operations continuing like nothing happened last night. Catra scowls as she reaches her dressing room. This room is unlocked at least, and it only takes a minute to gather her coat and bag. Adora hoists Scorpia’s bike up, but Catra isn’t done now their things are collected.

“Take five, everybody! Absolutely dreadful work, we’ll begin from the last scene after I’ve had this chat,” DT calls, waving off their cast when they spot Catra fuming in the shadows. It wasn’t hard to guess they would be on stage, in the thick of it all. Catra glares daggers at them as they dismount the stage and make their way behind the curtains. Adora is tense at her back, her concern blatant.

“You’re smart enough to know I didn’t invite him, kitten. I would have made way more if the match concluded as planned. I hate _returning_ money I’ve made,” are the first words DT says when they enter her earshot – well, Adora’s earshot, but Catra was careful never to let someone so closely associated with Hordak get a handle on her senses and their limits. Catra glares at them. Yeah, she does know that, but she knows a lot _more_ too.

“And the part where he brought ghouls to kill me?” Catra demands. To her shock, DT actually pauses, and their pupils contract in surprise, even if their face remains largely impassive. No way. DT has to have known something was going on. She growls a low warning to them, a prompt to start fessing up. DT darts their gaze between her and Adora as Adora echoes the growl surprisingly well with her human vocal cords.

“Calm now, there’s no reason to sick your friend on me. Yes, I knew something was going on with the fighters, but I assumed they were his _thralls_. I have some morals. Very few of them, but _some_ ,” DT defends, shaking their head as they eye Adora up. Catra bares her fangs. That is its own kind of fucked up, but it is also known Hordak has _donations_ as part of his deals with his human fighters. He wasn’t a fan of hybrid blood, so Catra never had to worry, but thralls would explain a lot of the odd signs.

Most people don’t know enough about necromancy to believe an undead could pass for living. Probably because it takes a _skilled fucking necromancer_ to pull it off. DT’s heartrate has picked up a little, but only since Adora began growling, and nothing in their scent indicates an attempt at deceit.

“His ‘ _healer_ ’, who is she?” Catra demands. DT scoffs at that, relaxing a little now that Catra has not immediately launched at them, but still raising an eyebrow in response to the question.

“You think he told me? I heard him on the phone with her a few times after matches, just saying he was bringing her another case. I never heard her end of the conversation. I was just the _venue_ , kitten. And I’m not even that anymore,” DT points out. It is Catra’s turn to scoff, sending them an utterly disbelieving look. Yeah, right. People don’t get out of business with Hordak. She and Scorpia are the one exception.

“There was a _very public murder here_ last night, kitten. There was no way to pass it off. Hordak doesn’t want to risk hosting a match here again and have the authorities lying in wait. Our deal is called off. Luckily, I was smart enough to make a nest egg. You rubbed off on me,” DT tell hers, ending their sentence with a wink. Adora actually starts forward from Catra’s side, glaring DT down.

“Stop calling her fucking kitten, and she isn’t going to _rub you off_ any time,” Adora grinds out, her eyes sparking. DT, to their credit, has an appropriate amount of fear for once and drops their leer immediately, raising their hands in a placating gesture.

“ _Possessive_. You know it’s all a game, right? I’m not interested in stuff like that. I do it because her reactions are so precious,” DT points out. Catra stares at them. That is less believable than not knowing about the _ghouls_. They have been flirting with her relentlessly since she first stepped foot into their theatre. DT catches her startled expression and raises an eyebrow.

“And if I _was_ into anything, it certainly wouldn’t be women. You just fall for it too easily. I wrote the address of a _hair salon_ on the card I gave you and you never even checked, did you?” they add. Catra is about two steps from screaming in frustration. Does DT pretending to flirt with her for years to _annoy_ her track with their entire personality? Yes. It is still kind of infuriating, even if she would prefer not to get attention from them.

“Keep out of bed with Hordak. The coven is coming for him,” Catra says through gritted teeth, pinching the bridge of her nose. DT grins, wide and far too pleased.

“I don’t get in bed with anybody, I already told you that-“ they start. Catra cuts them off with a disgusted scoff, turning on her heel.

“The bet money?” she tosses over her shoulder, but she knows that answer.

“Mostly redistributed, or waiting to be. Sorry, but I’m even returning ticket sales to make sure people keep their mouths shut,” DT tells her. Catra doesn’t acknowledge it, walking away. She knew there was no chance of them making money for the exorcist at this point. Adora lingers for a moment to glare at DT one last time, but then she hurries after Catra.

\--

They go to Scorpia’s place. The tea shop is open now, so Scorpia is busy. Catra has a spare key to the backdoor of the attached flat that she uses to let herself and Adora in so they can deposit the bike that is Scorpia’s main mode of transport inside. Scorpia has moved Lonnie to her bed to rest for the day. Catra goes to check on the sleeping hyena, softly petting through her fur, and finds her own standing on end for reasons she can’t place.

“Emily is near you. I can’t see her, but I can sense her. I think she’s watching over Lonnie,” Adora assures, running a hand down Catra’s arm and smoothing the fur flat. Catra swallows, darting her gaze around. The dark spirit could easily be residing in any of the shadows around the room and watching them. She sighs as she looks down at Lonnie, worrying at her bottom lip.

“I’m going to hire a fucking exorcist myself and let them in while Scorpia is working in the shop,” she decides, her voice low. She can’t let Scorpia be in danger like this. She doesn’t need to be rich and she doesn’t even need to be comfortable – she just wants her friends to be okay. The dishes in Scorpia’s sink rattle. Catra’s fur bristles, the back of her shirt puffing out as, to her surprise, Adora turns to the dishes and makes a _shooshing_ motion.

“No one is hiring an exorcist. She didn’t know. Thank you for helping me last night,” Adora tells the rattling dinnerware. Immediately, the movement stops. Catra looks at Adora incredulously as Adora turns back to offer her a sheepish smile. “It kind of got lost in the shuffle last night but – Emily isn’t here to hurt anyone. She was breaking stuff so Scorpia would call Entrapta over. And she helped me balance out last night so I could comfort you,” Adora tells her, sending Catra one of her hapless and naïve looks. Catra gapes at her.

“We fought a deathmatch because a _ghost got a crush_?”

\--

Catra texts Glimmer for advice on transporting a spirit at the same time that she asks Entrapta if she would like another roommate. Glimmer advises her that spirits can willing possess vessels and move with them, at which point Catra asks if that holds true for dark spirits too, and she gets a rather frantic phone call.

“According to Adora, she is nice and she is willing,” Catra tells Glimmer, eyeing the teapot Adora has sat in the middle of the floor and is kneeling next to, patting her knees and making low whistles like she is calling over a puppy. Glimmer seems as reluctant to buy it as Catra is, but there isn’t much to be argued when the teapot suddenly rattles and the lid closes by itself.

“Is Scorpia ever getting that back?” Catra asks Adora after hanging up the phone. Adora looks down at the teapot on the floor.

“I doubt it, but maybe after she has settled into Entrapta’s?” Adora offers. The teapot lightly rattles. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure that means finders keepers,” Adora tells her, shrugging and looking up at Catra with her damn puppy eyes. Catra sighs, knowing what Adora wants, and reluctantly edges within arms’ reach. She doesn’t _want_ to be near the teapot, but Adora perks up instantly at her approach. Adora reaches for her, hauling Catra down into her lap mere _inches_ from the teapot, but she doesn’t seem bothered by how Catra’s tail has fluffed out as she bends down to kiss Catra’s ears.

When Entrapta arrives, Scorpia lets her into the backroom without question, but she doesn’t have the staff to pull herself away from the store. Catra is glad because while Entrapta would never think to pause at the way Adora is cuddling her - or the dark bruises on her girlfriend’s pale neck that are clearly _fresh_ \- Scorpia definitely would, and would probably also be horrified by them making out in front of a poltergeist.

Entrapta _does_ cock her head upon entering the flat though, looking at Adora for a long moment. Catra hasn’t really thought about how she would introduce Adora to her friends. Scorpia happened on accident and Catra has been a little too busy between Adora and the fight to worry about telling Entrapta without setting off another incident.

“This is Princess in her human form. Her real name is Adora. She got Emily to go into the pot,” Catra informs Entrapta, gesturing to the porcelain. The strategy works. Entrapta nods, waving at Adora with a smile, and then immediately descends on the teapot. Entrapta knows the name of Catra’s ex, and Catra will have to catch her up at some point, but for right now Catra is more than happy to let Entrapta zero in on the ghost.

The poltergeist has smashed Scorpia’s specialty equipment a number of times, but it doesn’t seem bothered at all as Entrapta gathers up the teapot and _coos_ to it. Catra and Adora watch with twin expressions of disbelief as Entrapta all but baby talks to the teapot. She only stops when her eyes wander to land on Scorpia’s bed, tucked into the corner of the apartment.

“ _A lich?_ Fascinating! You had to disengage from battle to save her soul, didn’t you? She was marked for death previously, I don’t know of another way to escape,” Entrapta immediately launches into an excited tirade, hurrying over to Lonnie’s limp form with the teapot cradled against her chest. Adora’s face knits in confusion.

“ _Marked for death_?” she echoes, because despite being there for the meeting, none of them had said explicitly what Entrapta is or what they wanted her to do. Catra silences her with a light hand on her shoulder, watching Entrapta bend over Lonnie’s sleeping form to inspect her.

“Could the mark be keeping her from waking up?” she asks, because it is far more pressing than explaining Entrapta’s weirdness, which Catra herself doesn’t quite understand even after knowing the Valkyrie for years. Apparently Fate exists – but it also _doesn’t_. Entrapta can sway it – but it can also be _fought_. Catra gave up on making sense of it and just wrote it off as magic bullshit long ago. Entrapta hums at her words, turning to throw a grin over her shoulder.

“Quite possibly! Her body seems to be reanimated, but a deathmark in battle is powerful. You raised her afterwards, yes? The mark has less sway now that battle is completed, but it still holds power,” Entrapta explains to her. Catra stands from Adora’s arms, edging closer to the bed.

“Can you remove it? Can you even fuck with other Valkyrie’s marks?” Catra asks, her tail lashing behind her. It is a mix of nerves for the answer Entrapta could give, and general unease at being near the dark spirit in Entrapta’s arms. Entrapta blinks at her and then holds the teapot out to her, practically shoving it in her arms. Catra cringes, but reluctantly reaches out to take the pot, carefully holding it at arm’s length in both her hands.

The teapot doesn’t outright rattle, but there is a hum of energy within it that causes Catra’s fur to bristle again. Entrapta drops a hand to Lonnie’s chest, humming to herself as she feels along to find where her heartbeat is strongest.

“This wasn’t another Valkyrie, just Fate dealing a lethal blow. I should be able to remove it now she is breathing again,” Entrapta says, matter-of-factly. Nothing happens. Nothing changes. Entrapta hums to herself, hand on Lonnie’s chest, and then swiftly turns back to Catra and takes the teapot back.

“All done!” Entrapta declares happily, tucking the teapot back under her arm. “I’ll keep you guys posted on how Emily is settling in,” she tells the room vaguely as she heads for the door, waving over her shoulder. Catra starts to protest, but she is cut off by a groan from behind her. By the time she has turned to find the hyena twitching in her sleep, the door to Scorpia’s flat has slammed shut and Entrapta is outside of the range of further questioning.

Catra swallows reflexively when she sees Lonnie’s face twitch for the first time. She wonders if her fear is palpable, because Adora is at her side in an instant, hands firm on her shoulders as she presses against her back, grounding her. Catra needs it, because at that moment Lonnie slits her eyes open. Dark brown eyes stare unseeing, dilating and coming into focus before she twitches and her vision begins to roam. Catra’s breath stutters when Lonnie’s eyes land on her.

“Hey, Lonnie. What do you remember?” she asks, her voice a little cracked and unsure. Lonnie’s ears flatten, and the fur on her spine ridge stands a little, but she doesn’t growl or _lunge_ at Catra, so Catra’s guess would be _not much_. Lonnie’s eyes flash, then beam up to full-on amber as her pelt shudders and she begins to shift.

Catra can’t stop herself from taking a half-step back into Adora’s embrace as the hyena is replaced by Lonnie’s short frame. Her face is screwed up, and she definitely has a few more ugly scars that didn’t heal during her time as a ghoul, but her skin has a healthy flush to it and she is thankfully clothed.

“I’m going to get her water. I really needed water after shifting back,” Adora tells Catra, softly, pressing a kiss to the base of her ear and stepping back now it doesn’t seem Lonnie is an immediate danger at least. Catra would really prefer Adora _stayed_ , but anything to help Lonnie out right now is the priority. Adora drank two entire glasses of water before their first breakfast, so she is probably right Lonnie needs one now.

Lonnie’s eyes blink open in her human form and stare, unfocused, straight out into the room, missing Catra by a few inches. Behind her, Catra hears Adora open Scorpia’s cabinets looking for a glass. She looks down at her unseeing friend and enemy, just _hoping_ for the light of recognition to enter her gaze any moment.

“You’re okay, Lonnie. We’re getting you water. You’re safe,” Catra offers, the best assurance she can give right now. Lonnie’s eyes drift to her when she speaks, her gaze becoming more focused. Catra feels her ears pin back as Lonnie’s face twitches upon seeing her, but it does not set into a mask of anger at least. Water is running behind her, assuring her Adora will be back soon. Lonnie coughs, her hand raising to land on her stomach where Catra ran her through, feeling herself cautiously through her shirt.

“Damn, that’s a lot of scarring. You really fucked me up, Wildcat,” Lonnie rasps, her voice gravelly from disuse. Catra damn-near shudders, just relieved that Lonnie is here and _talking_ , even though she remembers Catra is the one who got her into this mess. Lonnie groans, a little pained, and raises her hand to her forehead instead. “What happened?” she asks.

The water stops behind Catra, and then Adora’s footsteps cross the room. Catra is grateful for the delay of Lonnie catching sight of Adora, her brow furrowing instantly, but she still lets Adora help her sit up against the wall and drink.

“What year is it?” Adora asks Lonnie. The question makes Lonnie pause in the middle of tilting her head back for another sip. She lowers the glass slowly and narrows her eyes first at Adora, and then at Catra. Adora pauses and then turns to send Catra a sheepish look. “I don’t actually know the answer to that either,” she admits. Lonnie’s eyebrows almost climb into her hairline in response. Catra sighs, biting her lip.

“It’s been two years since our fight, Lonnie. Is that the last thing you remember?” she asks. Lonnie’s eyes go wide, giving her all the response she needs.

\--

Glimmer was supposed to tell them what was going on with Adora’s shifting today, but after she suddenly has to take in a werehyena and _lich_ that has no memories of being dead, on top of a necromancy investigation, she kind of has her hands full.

“I’m still doing research on why she never shifted before adulthood, but we’ll talk about that once I’ve had time to research my theory. We at least know she has to be a direwolf. They’re the only werewolves that can heal others,” Glimmer tells Catra while Adora is helping Lonnie stand and get used to her legs again so she can walk out to Glimmer’s car.

Being undead doesn’t seem to have affected Lonnie too much, her necromancer skilled enough to keep her muscles, flesh, and organs from decaying, and she manages to walk over to Scorpia’s back door on her own, a scowl firmly in place as she eyes Glimmer.

“I don’t like the coven,” she greets, because Lonnie like that, and is the type to lay it all out for you. Glimmer raises an eyebrow at her and sends her a bitch face back.

“Too bad, because you’ll need to come to our Moon Rituals to keep your body from decaying and naturally progress your age. It’s us or being a skeleton. Your brain was likely incapable of writing new memories while undead, but if it was, we are also your only chance of recovering the last few years,” Glimmer points out. Lonnie outright glares at the sorceress as Glimmer throws her a challenging smile.

“We’re _also_ willing to put a roof over your head and help you work out the legal details of your undeath, so it is us or fighting your way through that mess on your own,” Glimmer adds. Lonnie is a bitch, yeah, but she isn’t an idiot, and she knows better than to threaten a person offering sanctuary. She turns her glare on Catra instead.

“It was just a shit fight and situation, but I’m not above pulling the _you killed me_ card if living with this chick drives me up the wall. And I’m only going along with this because she is trying to hunt down the bitch who did this to me,” Lonnie tells Catra, gruffly. Catra winces, but she nods. If she is haunted knowing she is responsible for some of the deaths of the ghouls, she cannot imagine how Lonnie must be feeling about finding out all this _and_ knowing her body was being puppeteered for the last few years.

“The coven will take care of you, Lonnie,” Catra tells her, with conviction she wouldn’t have possessed a week ago. Lonnie extends her hand, raising an eyebrow. Catra knows this is the Lonnie equivalent of a _blood pact_ , but she takes it anyway and they shake on it.

“No offense, Wildcat, but I don’t think I actually ever want to see your face again,” Lonnie tells her as she turns to go. Catra winces again, but she really can’t _blame_ Lonnie for that one.

“Fair. Glimmer has my number if you change your mind,” Catra returns. Lonnie pauses to grunt before she breezes out the door, past where Glimmer has been watching the exchange with a raised brow.

“She doesn’t know the word _grateful_ , does she?” Glimmer asks as she turns to follow Lonnie. Catra laughs, thinking back to all the times she, Lonnie, and Scorpia trained together.

“If she hasn’t decked you yet, that is as good as a thank you,” she returns.

\--

“I wondered why Entrapta stole my red teapot!” Scorpia says, like she has solved a great mystery, when Catra and Adora tell her the whole _Emily_ situation upon her shop closing in the evening. She has been caught up, understaffed and unaware of the situation unfolding in her apartment. Catra is stretched out on her bed, shedding on it and covering up Lonnie’s slightly _dead_ scent while Adora watches from the foot of the bed. Hyenas mark the same as she does, and though she is glad Lonnie’s body is alive enough to produce scent, Scorpia is _her_ best friend.

“I feel bad that we were trying to exorcise her and all she wanted was a friend…” Scorpia adds, her brows drawing together in concern. Catra shoots Adora an incredulous look, but Adora just seems amused by Scorpia’s bleeding heart. Right, a _friend_. First of all, a poltergeist moved in uninvited, and secondly, she was _breaking shit for attention_.

She wonders if _ghostfucker_ gives off an aura or something. Emily is either horny or just wants to be around a Valkyrie. Entrapta was the only one Darla deemed _worthy_ to manifest for, after all. Entrapta has something going on for sure, but Catra isn’t sure she wants to clarify which it is.

“Listen, as long as Emily doesn’t hurt her, I don’t care. Entrapta was thrilled to have another ghost around. I swear she is going to start a _collection_ ,” Catra returns, curling up a little on the bed. Scorpia sleeps right beneath her window, letting the cold winter air permeate the glass. Catra would really like to go home and curl up in her warm bed with Adora and Melog, but they had to stick around to assure Scorpia that Lonnie had not wandered off and the poltergeist situation would be fine.

The movement tugs her feet out of Adora’s lap. Catra tucks her knees into her chest, tail wrapping tightly around herself, curling into a small ball as she rubs her cheek against Scorpia’s sheets. Scorpia is busy making dinner and couldn’t care less about what Catra is doing and she is _cold_. Adora, on the other hand, apparently cares a lot, because _jealousy_ rolls off her. Catra blinks, curling her head down to look at Adora without having to lift her head. Adora immediately flushes, looking away to avoid eye contact. She looks a bit ashamed, but also still _visibly_ jealous.

“Why?” Catra questions, quietly, knowing Scorpia isn’t really listening to them from where she is humming as she cooks. To her surprise, Adora sends her an incredulous look, raising an eyebrow as she does so and pointedly looking towards Catra’s hair- no, her cheek. Yes, Catra was marking the bed, but so?

So Adora isn’t used to there being anyone in their lives but each other, Catra realizes, and she hasn’t been witness to the last four years of Catra opening up slowly to Scorpia and Entrapta – and Lonnie, until she tore that bridge apart herself. She forgot that something normal for her to do now _wasn’t_ the last time she knew Adora. Before Scorpia, she had never marked anything that was not hers or Adora’s.

Adora is _jealous_ , even if she is clearly embarrassed by it. She looks away quickly when Catra blinks at her in shock, finally putting it all together, and shifts a bit uncomfortably where she is seated. Her eyes are starting to glow again. Catra pauses, deliberating. They really can’t have this conversation here, in front of Scorpia and lounging on her bed. They also cannot just _leave_ because Scorpia already invited them to stay for dinner and started cooking it, so a private conversation really isn’t happening right now.

Catra sits up, watching Adora wince as she abandons her warm spot to crawl to the end of the bed and into Adora’s lap. The sheets smell enough like Catra anyway. Lonnie laid in them for longer, but Catra was purposefully marking them. Adora draws in a sharp breath, still blushing, as she raises her arms to cradle around Catra. Catra lays her head on Adora’s shoulder, rubbing her cheek against Adora’s collarbone. Adora’s eyes at least dim as she risks a glance down. She seems _worried_ , her eyes sparking again when they land on the ruffled fur of Catra’s cheek.

Catra leans up to Adora’s ear, because if she is going to say _this_ in front of Scorpia, she doesn’t want to risk saying it above a whisper. Still, she wants to assure Adora, and she doesn’t want the wolf to come out.

“She’s my friend, Adora, but you are _mine_. Now be a good puppy until I can get you home,” Catra purrs to her. Adora flushes up to her ears and down her chest, her eyes going wide and darkening as she bites on her bottom lip to stifle the small noise in the back of her throat. Catra purrs in satisfaction, both at the reaction and at the fact that Scorpia hasn’t noticed anything. Desire is laced with Adora's scent, which Catra could have very well _guessed_ , but she still notes it down for later.

Dinner is going to be interesting.

\--

By the end of dinner Adora’s eyes have never been darker, and she damn-near _shoves_ Catra against her car when they reach it, Scorpia’s apartment door finally closed behind them. If Catra could be bothered to open her eyes, she would check if Scorpia is watching them through the window, but she is a bit busy being pinned against her driver’s side door, one of Adora’s hands on her hip, holding her against the car body, and the other on her thigh, tugging it _forward_ to wrap around Adora.

“You are still an asshole,” Adora mutters to her, between frantic kisses, like she expected that to _change_ over five years of loss. Catra smirks against her lips, which causes Adora to release a low groan approaching a growl and shove a thigh between Catra’s own. Catra stutters out a moan, wrapping her tail loosely around the back of Adora’s thighs so she can ghost it between her legs, like she did to her all evening under the table. Thankfully Scorpia fixed a spicy dish and was willing to write off Adora’s flush as a reaction to the heat, but Adora can actually handle spice with far more grace than Catra can.

What she _can’t_ handle is Catra’s tail draped over her lap, twitching with anticipation until Catra reached under the table, grabbed Adora’s knee, and spread her legs while Scorpia was turned away to gesture to her windowsill plant she named Daisy despite it decidedly not being a daisy. Catra’s tail fell between Adora’s legs and she spent the rest of the meal twitching it whenever Adora was not talking. Adora never figured that out though, and got increasingly quieter to hide her fluster.

The past day has been so much to deal with that this just feels _right_. Catra feels oddly relieved and assured now, a feeling of comfort spreading through her all through dinner. It is Adora’s assurances from this morning catching up with her. It is knowing Lonnie is okay. It is knowing Glimmer thinks she has a _solution_ to Adora’s shifting. It is the _fuck, I could have lost you_ , twenty-four hours delayed, but now she has the energy to follow through with it. As much as she has been working Adora up, Catra’s own desire has been building.

Adora is damp even through her pants. She pulls back enough to turn a narrow-eyed glare down to Catra, but her eyes are dilated and her cheeks flushed.

“I believe you promised we would go _home_ at some point,” she points out, her breath stuttering at the end as Catra flicks her tail again. Catra flashes a smirk that is all fangs to her, pointedly rolling her hips against Adora’s thighs. It causes her own breath to stutter, but it also makes her point.

“I _was_ going to take you there until someone pinned me up against a car. Or would you rather I _take you_ right here?” she questions, flicking her tail again. Adora’s scent is overwhelmed with desire. Her hands flex on Catra before she slowly and reluctantly lets go. Catra drops her raised leg, letting her tail flick back to twitch against the car in amusement.

“How far are we from home?” Adora asks, so fucking horny she has turned entirely single-minded. Catra started this game to keep her from shifting, but it has developed into something with its own merit now. Catra smiles at Adora while she reaches back and grabs the car door handle.

“Thirty minutes when you don’t drive like Glimmer, but I’ll make the wait worth your while,” Catra promises her.

\--

They greet Melog when they get home, giving them pets and attention after they were alone for the day. There will be plenty of time to play with them tonight, but Catra has other matters to attend to first. She takes Adora to the bedroom and pins her against the door, her tail lashing and breath quick with anticipation. Adora’s eyes dilate as she reaches for the light, blindly groping at the wall until she flicks it on. Adora blinks at her rapidly, Catra’s predatory grin lit for her to see.

“I know you were having some _thoughts_ during dinner. Show me what you wanted me to do to you,” she requests. Adora shivers, her hands coming up to grab Catra’s waist. She leans forward, pulling Catra flush against her as she leans forward to whisper in her ear.

“I was thinking about what I wanted to do to _you_ in retaliation, actually. How I wanted you on the mattress beneath me, begging for more,” Adora breathes in her ear. It is just the rush of air that causes Catra’s fur to stand on end, a shiver running down her spine and her throat working silently in response. Adora pulls back, leaning against the door and smirking. “Cat got your tongue?” she asks, far too fucking satisfied with herself.

“Oh, fuck off,” Catra responds, shoving at her shoulder even though Adora has nowhere to go, laughing where she is already pinned against the door. Catra huffs, leaning forward to mark under Adora’s jaw, _showing_ her who she belongs to and who is in charge. Unfortunately, it isn’t much of a power move. Adora hums happily in response and drops a kiss into her hair.

“Do you want that? I know you were in a top mood during dinner,” Adora asks. Catra hesitates. She was, kind of. She likes seeing Adora squirm, certainly. The truth is that her body is tired, though. She has bruises and lingering stiffness from the fight, her body tight. A good fuck might be exactly what she needs. Catra nips lightly at the side of Adora’s neck before she pulls back to make eye contact with her.

“Mind the bruises, but sure, as long as I get to be facedown in your tits after when I’m making you come,” Catra responds. Adora’s flush warms her cheeks and spills down her chest as she nods eagerly, apparently more than happy to accept Catra’s conditions. Catra grins, satisfied at how _whipped_ Adora is, eager to touch her and give her what she wants. “Alright, then I’m all yours, beautiful. Show me what you want,” she tells her.

Adora runs her hands down Catra’s body, her touch light until she reaches her thighs, gripping them and lifting Catra up. Catra wraps her arms around Adora’s shoulders, purring softly as she is carried to the bed. Adora lowers herself to her knees before leaning forward and gently depositing Catra on the mattress, mindful of her sore back.

Adora doesn’t pull away, kissing her soft and slow as she drops her hands to the edge of Catra’s shirt and pushes it up. They only part briefly to remove the article of clothing, and then they are together again, the kiss just as languid. Adora’s hands are gentle, so _careful_ as they run down her body. She feels her up, massaging a little as she goes. Occasionally it makes Catra hiss and wince when Adora finds a bruise, but Adora quickly releases the pressure when it happens.

Regardless of the tease during dinner, Catra feels like she just _needs_ this. She doesn’t think she would sleep well without it. Last night the utter exhaustion had pulled them under, but now Adora knows what she has done and has had time to process it, Catra just wants to know Adora still wants her, still _loves_ her.

Catra whimpers into the kiss and Adora freezes where her hands have settled on Catra’s hips, thumbs tucking into her waistband. She feels Adora start to pull back and immediately makes a noise of protest, shaking her head and wrapping her arms around Adora’s shoulders to drag her down into another kiss. Adora kisses her back, but _barely_ , hesitant and uncertain. Catra is well-aware of how pathetic that whimper sounded, but as badly as she wants Adora to _say_ she loves her right now, she couldn’t take it if Adora pulled away.

Adora doesn’t pull back, but she turns her face away, breaking the kiss to drop one to Catra’s cheek instead.

“Are you okay? Do you want to stop?” Adora asks her, softly. Catra _yelps_ , digging her claws into Adora’s shoulders and earning a shuddering groan in response that leaves Adora _panting_ in its wake. “Okay,” she pants, once she has recovered some air, “so you don’t want to stop. Talk to me?” she requests. Catra swallows. She doesn’t want to do that. She doesn’t want to admit anything.

She wants Adora to love her back. It is asking a lot considering Catra hasn’t said she loves her or even _likes_ her since Adora’s return. The closest she got was _I still feel_ and an aborted attempt at more. She ducks her face to hide in Adora’s neck and lets out a shaking breath. In the ring, she learned to give as good as she got. Scorpia was the one who taught her – retaught her, because Adora had shown her it when they were younger – that the philosophy could be extended to kindness as well.

“Tell me- Tell me,” Catra stutters out, before some instinct deep in her brain forces her to bite down on Adora’s shoulder to shut herself up for the _second time today_. She really is a mess after everything last night. Adora lets out a soft breath, her hands sliding up to tuck beneath Catra on the mattress and totally wrap her up, Adora’s weight pressing down on her. Everywhere she is surrounded by her girlfriend.

“I’m right here. I’m _staying_. I don’t care about the fights. I’m here, and I love you,” Adora assures, pressing another kiss into her cheek. Catra’s next breath is shaking and wet, raspy as tears form in her eyes. Adora kisses the side of her face, not mentioning her tears and also not pulling away even an inch. “We’ll stop, okay? It’s too much for tonight. I love you. I don’t mind,” Adora promises her.

Catra draws in a sharp breath, closes her eyes, and _forces_ words out her throat.

“I love you too,” she breathes, her voice small and wavering in the air between them, damp and a bit oppressive from their mingling breaths. Adora sucks in a sharp breath and then she is crying too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mean for there to be a tease, but they really need to just _be._


	11. 7. Lycanthropy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've never had a pet with tags, or they just don't do this in your country, the national pet stores here have tag engraving kiosks that use lasers to put custom text on dog tags in just a few minutes.

They end up out in the living room, once they have both calmed down. Melog sensed the general distress and returned to the house quickly, joining them as Catra snuggled into Adora.

It is nearly midnight. Catra is splayed out on the couch, face down in Adora’s lap as Adora leans against the arm of the couch and carefully massages along her back and arms. Just because she doesn’t have any true injuries from the fight doesn’t mean she escaped unscathed. Catra has a number of bruises, and her muscles are tight from the hard activity and adrenaline only twenty-four hours ago. Adora soothes the aches, her fingers steadily working to release the tension in Catra’s body.

They have a lot of experience with Catra’s body tight and _feeling_ bruised despite being physically uninjured by Shadow Weaver’s draining. It is a weird kind of familiar, good memories surrounded by horrible days. It feels right to be back in Adora’s arms again, in love and being cared for by her, but it also feels like a flashback.

Catra turns her head from where she has it buried in Adora’s stomach, looking out into the backyard. She does it to _see_ , see her half-decorated living room, see the subtle rise and fall of Melog’s mane where they are lounging with a chew toy abandoned between their paws, just see her house and know they are here and not in their small bedroom back at Shadow Weaver’s house.

Melog fell asleep from the contentment radiating out through the bond. They haven’t gotten much rest in the last day, worried about Catra when she was out of the house. Now, having them all back home and safe, Melog sleeps easily. Catra can’t quite relax like that though, not with the other memories lying just beneath the surface, and especially not when it would rob herself of soaking in Adora’s affection.

Adora misinterprets the movement of her head, sliding her hands up to rub at the base of Catra’s ears. Catra’s purr, a subtle rumbling previously, kicks up to _rolling_ as she absently kneads against the couch cushions. Catra isn’t going to correct her on why she moved, letting her eyes fall half-lidded as her purr rumbles through her, the affection making her limp in Adora’s lap. Adora radiates contentment, apparently all too pleased to massage Catra’s ears despite how they should join Melog in sleeping soon. The moon is high in the sky, near-full and beaming bright light into the backyard. The thought makes Catra sigh even through her purr.

“It’s the full moon on Tuesday,” Catra points out, her words rolling a bit. Adora’s hands hesitate, but she quickly resumes her affections.

“I know. I don’t know what is going to happen, but I’ll probably shift back. We can try Glimmer’s ritual, or see what she has found by then and try our, uh, other strategy. We should go to the Moon Ritual regardless. I haven’t been in too long,” Adora tells her, still rubbing firmly against Catra’s ears. Catra lets herself be putty in Adora’s hands, thinking that over.

Their _other strategy_ seems to be working surprisingly well, though Catra has still been worried every time that Adora’s eyes flash. According to Glimmer, Adora is a direwolf. Catra has only heard of them in passing, but as far as she knows they are a different form of werewolf. It doesn’t answer how Adora got stuck or the spell on her, and that is the part that worries Catra. She can handle Adora shifting back – she already has – but she can’t handle losing her to the wolf again.

“What happens at the Moon Ritual?” Catra asks, mostly to distract herself. Everybody knows about it, damn-near the entire coven goes, but what happens during it has always kind of been a mystery to Catra. Adora hums, one of her hands staying at Catra’s ear while the other slides down her back to resume her massage.

“Official coven business and announcements are made, and some spells and few rituals are performed, usually ceremonial or like, to heal someone, that kind of thing. It is mostly a social event. I would see people there who were life-long friends but had only ever seen each other once a month at the ritual,” Adora explains. After a moment, she hesitates.

“You’ll go with me, right? I know you always wanted to stay out of the supernatural community after Shadow Weaver-“ Adora cuts off when Catra swats her harshly with her tail.

“ _Yes_ , Adora, I’ll go. I wanted to avoid the supernatural community when my girlfriend wasn’t a _part_ of it. If we have to go to the Moon Ritual every month to meet up with your fellow werewolves or whatever, that is fine with me,” Catra assures her. Adora snorts, but when Catra sends her a sidelong glance, Adora is looking down at her with a soft expression, blatant affection written across her face.

“I love you,” Adora says. She isn’t expecting a response, but-

“I love you too,” Catra gives it anyway.

\--

They get to just spend Sunday together. It is almost _weird_. They wake well into the afternoon, no work or looming deathmatches to pull them apart. Adora’s hand shake is getting better, even if the tremors are still present, so Catra helps her cook breakfast for the three of them. Back in Shadow Weaver’s house, she usually required Adora to cook breakfast while Catra did dinner – _and_ lunch, on the weekends when they weren’t at school – but it has been many years since Adora has been in front of a stove, and Catra isn’t willing to leave her unattended.

Adora doesn’t set anything on fire, although she comes _close_ when she knocks over her dry ingredients and they land on the heating element, but they end up with a perfectly edible meal. It isn’t as good as what Catra can cook at this point, but Melog doesn’t turn their nose up at it, so Adora still managed to do a pretty good job.

Catra is stiff, bruises blooming beneath her fur. She spends most of the afternoon lying on the couch, glued to her phone as she watches videos in their group chat and tries not to breathe too hard. Entrapta is introducing Darla and Emily to each other like Emily is a new kitten she brought home. She is keeping Emily in her delivery bay, right at the edge of her house so she is not encroaching on Darla too much. She keeps sending videos of Emily _playing_ with the packages prepping to go out.

Adora alternates between cleaning the mess in the kitchen, playing with Melog, and sitting on the couch, letting Catra pillow her head in her lap as Adora pets her ears and scratches lightly at her scalp, like she is doing now. Catra purrs in response, rubbing her cheek against Adora’s thigh. Adora snorts a laugh as, on Catra’s phone screen, Emily’s dark orb flies into one of the delivery drones, possessing it and turning it on. She doesn’t seem to know how to _steer_ it and barely gets it off the ground before it collapses again and her dark orb flees the machine. The video cuts off as Entrapta hurries forward to turn the drone back off.

“I let her take some of my light Friday night, you know. I think she needed it to detach from Scorpia’s place. Possessing different things once attached takes a lot of energy,” Adora tells her, bending down to press a kiss into Catra’s hair. Catra frowns down at the phone.

“You shouldn’t let people keep draining you, Adora. First Angella and now Emily,” Catra points out. It bothers the hell out of her to think of other people _taking_ from Adora like that. Adora blinks down at her in surprise. She shifts a bit uncomfortably, looking off to the side as she thinks.

“I’m out of balance. Glimmer said I needed to control my light, remember? I don’t mind giving some away,” Adora says. Catra frowns, turning her head to bury it in Adora’s stomach. Yeah, Glimmer said balancing was how Adora shifted back to human, but Catra is pretty sure she didn’t mean _letting a poltergeist drain her._

“We got out, Adora. We got out _five years ago_. You shouldn’t have to keep going through that. I don’t think letting other people _take_ from you is going to help you balance,” Catra points out. Adora bites her cheek, but she nods. Truly, that is the heart of the matter. Being drained isn’t a _normal_ thing for anyone to go through, and Adora shouldn’t have to keep subjecting herself to their childhood torture.

Catra would feel sick and bruised and _lifeless_ after Shadow Weaver took her lifeforce. Adora would feel weak and fatigued, but with her personal magic reserves she usually faired better, even though it was uncomfortable and _traumatic_. They are adults now. Shadow Weaver is gone from their lives. Catra doesn’t want Adora to have to hurt like that anymore. She nudges into Adora and after a moment Adora takes the prompt, scratching at her ears again.

“Don’t let people just drain you, okay? Healing is different, but you aren’t a _power source_ , Adora,” Catra reminds her. Adora lets out a soft breath, tightening her hands on Catra for a moment.

“Okay. Thank you,” she breathes, softly. Catra swallows, forcing herself to sit up. Her bruised and sore muscles protest, causing her to wince and Adora’s hands to fly to her. Adora helps her sit up, cradling Catra in against her chest and gazing down at her with a soft expression, hardened slightly by the tinge of concern in her gaze. Catra drops a soft kiss on Adora’s jaw, the only part of her face that she can reach without having to stretch up and strain her back.

“Just be here, that’s all I want. You don’t have to keep giving all the time. I’m so fucking scared that one day you’ll have nothing left,” Catra admits, in a whisper. It nearly happened to her when she was fifteen, and with how reckless Adora is with her magic, the fear has been ever-present on Catra’s mind since they were little.

Adora breathes out a heavy breath, like all the weight is slipping from her shoulders with it.

\--

Catra wakes up on Monday to a half second of _dream Adora_ before she registers it is very much _real Adora_ wrapped tight around her and snuffling into her hair. Utter peace leaks through her at the realization, not just that Adora is here, but that she _will_ be - that Catra never has to wake up to another hazy _almost_ and fight through a day of resulting depression.

Adora makes a questioning sound when Catra turns over in her arms and sets to kissing the faded bruises on her neck, but she merely tilts her head back to allow Catra more access, which she is happy to take advantage of. Feeling Adora’s pulse beating beneath the touch of her lips, her scent strong, is all Catra’s wants right now.

Behind them, Catra’s phone rings. Catra growls in displeasure, but she forces herself to pull away from Adora. Adora is still half-asleep, blinking at Catra questioningly as she goes to answer her phone. Normally Catra keeps it on silent, but she set Glimmer’s calls to come through in case something happens with Lonnie. Despite having woken on her own, it is still far too early in the day for anyone to be contacting her.

“Nocturnal species, remember?” Catra greets, putting as much contempt into her sleep-rough voice as she can. Behind her, Adora snorts, shifting on the bed to follow Catra to the edge of the mattress. Catra is crouched, her tail slowly lashing side-to-side in irritation. Adora is forced to sit up, wrapping her arms around Catra’s waist to tug her back into her arms. She pulls Catra back to lay on the mattress beside her even as Catra continues to scowl at her phone.

“Sorry, but I have meetings dealing with the necromancy situation all afternoon. I’m driving over right now to discuss Adora. I _assumed_ you would want a warning,” Glimmer returns, having absolutely none of her shit. She could have taken a _little_ of it. Catra narrows her eyes at the ceiling as Adora, apparently sleepy and wanting Catra to return that way as well, nuzzles into the fluff above Catra’s heart and murmurs _soft kitty_. Catra blushes as there is a pause on the other end of the line.

“Was that Adora?” Glimmer asks, a laugh barely contained in her voice. Catra opens her mouth, intending to snap out some cutting remark, but she is cut off by Adora humming and rubbing her cheek against the fluff again, mumbling _love you_ this time.

“No one said anything, and you’re delusional. ETA?” Catra requests as Adora, apparently satisfied with her chest, shifts to press kisses to the tops of Catra’s breasts peeking out from the neck of her tank top. Catra doesn’t know if Adora’s hearing is so shit that she can’t tell Glimmer is picking up on her actions, or if she _does_ know and is being an asshole. Glimmer doesn’t buy Catra’s bullshit at all, laughing down the line before answering.

“Thirty minutes if I don’t get road rage,” Glimmer tells her. Alright, so less than thirty minutes then.

“Fine. We’ll be dressed by then,” Catra promises, promptly hanging up the phone and looking down at Adora with a raised brow. Adora smiles up at her, relaxed still and pleased with herself. She knew _exactly_ what she was doing. Catra tosses her phone aside, reaching down to grab Adora’s shoulders and flip them easily.

“You have twenty minutes to come, princess,” Catra informs her. It isn’t _revenge_ for the phone call, but Catra definitely purrs as Adora’s eyes go wide in response.

\--

She barely needs twenty minutes it turns out, and Adora hazily tries to touch her as Catra rolls her eyes and stands from the bed afterwards, reaching down for her girlfriend in the process.

“You can have me later. Glimmer is going to be here any minute. We need to get dressed,” Catra points out. She is still in her pajamas and Adora is _naked_. Adora’s gaze falls on Catra’s outstretched hand and then wanders lazily up her body as Adora slowly smiles to herself and takes her hand. Catra flushes when Adora’s eyes finally reach her face once she has stood up.

“I can _have_ you, huh?” she questions, stepping forward to crowd around Catra as her ears twitch and fur fluffs up a little. Catra scoffs to cover her blush, rolling her eyes and turning back towards the closet door.

“ _Clothes_ , Adora. Glimmer doesn’t get to see you naked anymore,” Catra tells her, ignoring that turning her back on Adora gives her a clear view of her fluffed up tail. Her winter coat is already coming in and it only makes it more obvious when her fur stands on end. _Too_ obvious, because in the next moment she feels Adora’s hands on her tail and she freezes as a shudder runs through her body, catching her mid-stride.

“You like that, huh?” Adora asks, low and teasing as she steps forward until her heat is at Catra’s back and her fingers are working their way _up_. Adora’s fingers, still shaky usually but _sure_ in this moment, massage purposefully at her tail, just below the base. Catra’s fur is still standing on end as she lets out a fucking _mewl_ in response that has Adora gasping with delight.

“ _Catra_ ,” she intones, upping the pressure and making a tremble run through Catra’s legs as she tries to think about _anything_ but Adora’s fingers working up higher to press against her lower back and make her _pant_. “Glimmer said thirty minutes, didn’t she? Think you can go in _five_?” Adora asks, her voice low and cocky. The answer, historically, is _no_ , but Catra whimpers in response before the _Glimmer_ part permeates into her brain. With a reluctant sigh, Catra shakes her head. Adora’s hands immediately still.

“We have to get dressed, Adora. We have like two minutes,” Catra points out. Adora’s hands release her and Catra takes a deep, steadying breath as she wills her fur and libido to _stand down_. A moment later, Adora’s arms wrap around her waist and she presses a soft kiss to the back of Catra’s neck, which does not help her to _relax_ , even if it makes her melt a little in Adora’s arms.

“I love you,” Adora murmurs, nuzzling into the back of her hair. Catra shudders. It’s _too much_. She is working on it, but she is still trying to get her breathing under control.

“You too,” she settles on, which Adora seems perfectly content with if the way she hums happily is any indication. “Now come on, _clothes_. Once I hear her car, it’s too late,” Catra urges her girlfriend. Catra actually can _swear_ she can hear the distant rumblings of an approaching engine as she hurries them into the closet.

In her hurry, Catra grabs the handle to the _wrong fucking drawer_ in Adora’s dresser. She isn’t really looking, already half-turned away to grab a pair of pants she can yank on, so she doesn’t notice her miss until Adora draws in a sharp breath behind her. Catra turns back, confused, and freezes when she sees Adora staring down into the drawer.

It doesn’t contain her clothes. This is, instead, the drawer with a few of her things from high school – and also the drawer where Catra stowed the new collar and leash she bought, not having much chance for _discretion_ when neither of them really wanted to be apart. She snuck it in with the other new clothes she bought, and thus stowed it near them for later relocating. Catra feels her face flush, tail lashing with anxiety as she chances a peek up to Adora’s expression.

“That’s, uh, for me, isn’t it?” Adora asks, seeming a bit dumbstruck as she continues to stare at the collar that is _far_ too small for either Princess or Melog. Catra bites her lips and nods, knowing Adora can see it out of the corner of her eye.

“You seemed to like the _pet_ thing, so I thought- well, I kind of just wanted to- I’m sorry?” Catra stutters out, because Adora is still just _staring_. A flush is slowly rising on her face, but considering the fact they _just_ had sex, Catra can’t really tell if the desire in her scent means anything seeing as it was already there. Adora looks up, making eye contact with her. Her eyes are dilated.

“You don’t have to _apologize_ ,” Adora says, her voice rough, and _oh_ , clearly not. Catra’s tail isn’t lashing now, its swaying with interest as Adora’s throat works for a moment but makes no sound as she gathers herself. “I _do_ like it. It’s something I would want safe words for, but-“ Adora cuts off when the distinct sound of an SUV pulling into the driveway breaks through the tense air in the closet.

“ _After she’s gone_ ,” Catra intones, slamming the drawer shut and opening the _right_ one. Glimmer is never finding out about the second collar if Catra has anything to say about it.

\--

Glimmer brought an actual _stone tablet_ with her, covered in runes Catra knows Shadow Weaver tried to teach Adora how to read, but from the way Adora squints at it, clearly she failed.

“Adora is a direwolf, one of the original werewolves,” Glimmer explains, gesturing vaguely at the tablet. Catra raises an eyebrow from where she is sat beside Adora on the couch, Melog splayed on the other end of the sofa so they are bracketing Adora.

“Pretty sure the original werewolves were hundreds of years ago,” Catra points out. She actually has no idea when that was, just that it was many generations ago, so _hundreds of years_ sounds about right. Glimmer huffs, rolling her eyes.

“ _Yes_ , but all genuine lycanthropy originated from a powerful curse, placed on one individual. Werewolves came from that individual spreading a less potent version of the spell via bite. Direwolves are descended via genetics from the original cursed and inherited the full effects of the spell. Ordinary werewolves can heal themselves, for instance, but direwolves can also heal others. They are understandably _rare as hell_ , so we had no reference for what the original curse would look like when we found it in Adora,” Glimmer explains, tracing her finger along the runes like Catra and Adora can follow along with the text.

Adora shoots Catra a look of furrowed confusion. Catra sighs, looking back to Glimmer.

“So what, like a great, great, great granddaughter of the original werewolf? Her parents were human,” Catra points out. Glimmer raises an eyebrow at her.

“No one is required to disclose their folk status. The original shifters were _powerful_ , and they had trouble controlling themselves without training. It makes sense to not legally identify that way and risk being hounded by any anti-folk cultists, especially growing up in the climate that led up to the Silver Raids. They were probably just trying to keep Adora safe from being targeted since shifters appear fully human until their first shift, and that usually doesn’t happen for a few years as their light magic reserves build up. Unfortunately, it meant that the orphanage could not prepare Adora or her future guardian properly,” Glimmer tells her.

Catra sinks back on the couch. Yeah, that actually does make sense. She remembers her mother talking about how they used to live in the Arid Plains, but it wasn’t safe there anymore. Catra was too young to remember that time – it might have been before she was born, actually – but they retreated to a folk village in the Whispering Woods thinking nowhere was safer than deep in folk territory. They were wrong. It was a siren song of destruction that the Raiders couldn’t resist, coming armed with stakes, salt, and silver.

It was an environment of fear back then. Catra chances a glance at Adora, seeing how she is taking this. She is finding out that neither she nor her parents are the race she always thought they were. Adora doesn’t seem upset, though her shoulders are hunched and her eyes downcast. She seems more confused than anything else. After a cautious moment, Catra leans against her side, wrapping an arm around her waist and offering support. Adora straightens a little, throwing her a grateful smile before looking up to Glimmer.

“And the shifting? Don’t werewolves start shifting young?” Catra asks, because she did some googling over the last few days and she found out a _little_. Glimmer reaches out for the tablet, picking it up to tuck back into her bag as she explains.

“Sorceresses can run on very little magic, and in fact it is _safer_ for them to when they are still starting out and might accidentally make a fireball or something. Werewolves require more. Adora having her magic routinely drained likely kept her levels below what is required to reform her body, and the instability made it difficult for her to achieve balance once the draining stopped. I think her lack of control over her magic is what has created her inability to control her shifting. It only grew worse over the years of isolation, especially since she _believed_ she was under a curse and couldn’t affect her form on her own,” Glimmer says, eyeing Adora carefully. Adora just looks blank, staring at Glimmer like she is waiting for another answer.

There isn’t one, though. Adora told her, when they managed to briefly meet up just a few days before Adora’s birthday, that Shadow Weaver hadn’t been draining her much and had been oddly sweet to her ever since she chased Catra out. She was bribing her and they both knew it, trying to convince her to stay past her birthday so Shadow Weaver wouldn’t lose her precious well of power.

“Why _then_? Why that moment?” Catra asks softly, for Adora, because they both know she is thinking it. If this is the answer, why that day, the _worst_ day for it to happen. Glimmer pauses, eyeing the two of them.

“Love is a light emotion. I also imagine there was a lot of dark magic congregating in Shadow Weaver’s home from her rituals. One’s environment and emotions can have a strong effect on the magic someone generates, both in the type and quantity. I would guess a day of happiness, away from dark magic, allowed the wolf to finally come out when Adora lowered her barriers to sleep,” Glimmer says, slowly, like she is waiting for them to contradict her at any turn.

Adora looks a bit _heartbroken_. Catra feels her breath catch, starting to reach for Adora, but Adora’s eyes flash and she slams them shut, hunching down to wrap her arms around her stomach. Catra doesn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around Adora’s shoulders, ducking to rub her face into Adora’s hair, still down from their rush to get ready in thirty seconds.

“It’s okay, Adora. I’m right here,” Catra assures, pressing a kiss into Adora’s hair. Adora whines, low and sad, her shoulders trembling beneath Catra’s hands. Catra swallows, weighing her options. As much as she doesn’t want to say it, she thinks she knows what Adora needs right now. “If you need to shift, it’s okay. We know it’s not hurting you, now. You can come back,” Catra promises her, feeling the way Adora’s body shakes. Adora lifts her head, meeting her gaze with beaming eyes filled with tears. Catra swallows, reaching up to stroke Adora’s cheek.

“You were born like this, Adora. That means you can learn to control it, just like other werewolves do. You don’t need to be afraid of it. It won’t take you away again. I’m here for you, no matter what,” Catra promises her. Adora’s eyes flare, her shoulders shaking, but she doesn’t move from her hunched over position.

Beside Adora, Melog mews, nudging against her hip. It is assurance, _no more loneliness_. Adora should not be able to understand it, but it is the last push she needs before Adora practically flings herself from the couch, startling Catra as golden light envelopes her and she transforms. If Catra had a coffee table, it would be in splinters as Adora stands on her four legs, whining and shaking her coat out.

Adora turns and gives Catra an apologetic look with her giant, glowing eyes. Catra shakes her head, immediately reaching her hands out. Adora whimpers and shoves her head into them. Catra pets her, scratching behind her ears and gently pulling her in by her scruff until Adora’s head is in her lap.

“See? It’s okay. You’re still here. You’re not alone,” Catra promises her, bending down to press a kiss between Adora’s ears. At her side, Melog mews, agreement and encouragement. Adora lets out a chuff. It seems to be a sigh of relief, in truth. She wiggles her head, working it closer to snuffle at Catra’s shirt. Catra pulls back a little and sends Adora a hopeful look, patting the couch beside her. Adora’s ears, even the slightly lame one, perk up immediately.

Catra finally looks to Glimmer again as Adora hauls herself up onto the couch and drops her giant head into Catra’s lap, crawling close to work as much of her bulk close to Catra as she can. Glimmer looks relieved, but still pained. She makes eye contact with Catra over Adora’s head.

“Because of the sudden onset and not knowing about Shadow Weaver, Adora’s shifting seemed like an obvious curse, so the help we provided was geared towards one and was never going to _actually_ help. I think your support and both of you learning more about lycanthropy is your best bet for Adora to get her shifting under control now. I would recommend coming to the Moon Ritual just so she can meet with other natural-born werewolves, but I’m not going to do the ritual on her again. It is suppressing her nature with magic,” Glimmer tells her, biting her lip and sending Adora an apologetic look when she whines in response.

Adora’s sad puppy eyes are back, but at least Catra understands them now as she pets Adora, hoping to soothe her.

“I’ll bring her, but I’m going to do it on her leash, and if anyone gives us a hard time about it, I’ll claw their fucking eyes out,” Catra tells Glimmer. She _hopes_ Adora manages to be human again between now and then, but she doubts Adora will be able to resist the pull of the full moon on the night of. Glimmer’s face twists as she tries to look understanding even as she fights not to cringe.

“It’s not unheard of. Usually it is only for pups, but shifters who have recently been turned sometimes need help,” Glimmer tries to assure her. She doesn’t look assured herself, but Catra just snorts and shrugs as Adora nudges closer into her torso. Catra drapes both her arms around Adora, cuddling her close, which seems to satisfy Adora because she starts wagging her tail.

“Anything else we should know right now?” Catra asks her, watching Adora’s tail wag intermittently. Glimmer pauses, her expression pinching as she looks down at Adora.

“Adora’s best bet for controlling her shifting is trying to stay as balanced as possible. In general, making sure she doesn’t give without taking in return should help. Magic is about balance, and Adora’s has been thrown off for a long time,” Glimmer explains. Catra raises her eyebrow, looking down at where Adora is doing her best to look confused and displeased as a wolf.

“You hear that? Be a little selfish. It’s good for you, apparently,” Catra tells her, thinking back to their conversation on the couch yesterday. Adora pins her ears back and gives Catra a flat look. Catra returns it, making it clear she isn’t taking Adora’s bullshit. “You heard me. If you want to be human, be selfish like one,” Catra tells her, flicking Adora’s good ear lightly with her claws. Adora chuffs, turning her head to bury it in Catra’s stomach. Catra rolls her eyes, looking up to Glimmer again. Glimmer looks vaguely concerned and largely unconfident.

“I’ll send over some resources for Adora to look into as soon as I have time. We’re busy with the necromancy investigation right now, but there are only three registered with the coven and we are pretty sure we will clear them quickly. Lonnie will be paired with one of them after they have been cleared so she can learn more about her condition now. She is exactly as standoffish as she was when I picked her up still,” Glimmer informs her. Catra bites her lip, looking down to make eye contact with Adora. Piercing blue meets her split gaze, and a thread passes between them. Now Catra _knows_ , she also knows how to talk with Adora as a wolf a bit more – more than she did before, anyway.

“I’m going to text you an address. Just- have it checked. Shadow Weaver was a fucking scrub of a sorceress on her own, but she had the theory and knowledge, she just lacked the power,” Catra says, not looking up at Glimmer. Out of the corner of her eye, Glimmer nods.

\--

Catra sees Glimmer out, texting her the address after she pulls out of the driveway, and then immediately goes to fetch Princess’s collar. Adora levels her with a withering look when Catra brings it out, but she trots over when Catra calls her, sitting down and holding still even as her ears pin back. Catra sticks her tongue out at her petulant girlfriend as she fixes the collar in place.

“I know you would _rather_ wear the other one, but I’m not taking any fucking chances with you. Now do you want to go for walkies to get you some proper tags or not?” Catra questions, pressing a kiss to the top of Adora’s head before she straightens. Adora’s tail instantly begins to wag as she visibly perks up. Catra rolls her eyes as she turns to retrieve Princess’s leash.

“I expect you to have _leash manners_ this time, you big oaf,” Catra tells her as she hooks it onto Adora’s collar. Adora _boofs_ , a clear _no way_ if Catra has ever heard one. Catra narrows her eyes down at the wolf as she takes the leash up in her hand. “Leash manners, or you sleep in the doghouse, AKA the _couch_. Now behave while I get Melog’s harness,” Catra threatens. The chances of her letting Adora out of her sight while she is a wolf are exactly _zero_ , but Adora looks appropriately cowed and tries to give Catra several apologetic licks she _does not want_ as she puts on Melog’s harness and leash.

Melog is as excited to head out as Adora is. They have been at home all week, and while they still slip out to Woods now and then, they like exploring the town with Catra as well. Catra wasn’t about to take them somewhere dangerous, but she is more than willing to load her weird menagerie into the car to head to the pets and familiars store. Adora levels her with a pleading look as soon as she settles in the passenger seat.

With a sigh, Catra rolls down the window. Adora hangs her head out the window almost the entire way to the store. Catra laughs at her, but it is honest amusement rather than derision – not that she will evern tell Adora that.

“You look ridiculous,” Catra tells her when Adora hops out of the car with both her massive ears turned inside out. Adora just pants happily, leaning against Catra as she flips her ears back right-side-out. Adora had been freaking out while Glimmer was there, but the impromptu shopping trip seems to have taken her mind off the situation, despite it being the ungodly hour of _before noon_.

Catra understands why Adora is upset. For years she was looking for a cure, hoping one would be found, and it turns out there just _isn’t_ one. There also is nothing to cure, but that is not going to make her wolf form feel any less isolating. The best Catra can do for both of them is to spend as much time with Adora as she can now. Catra needs the assurance Adora won’t leave her alone as much as Adora needs it that she won’t _be_ alone.

Besides, now she knows this is going to be an ongoing thing for the rest of their lives, she _does_ want to get Adora tags. She pets the top of Adora’s head when she finishes fixing her ears and gently tugs on both sets of leashes, leading her companions to the front doors of the store. The employees should be used to oddness - they have to see all manner of animals, both mundane and folk - but she still draws eyes when she waltzes in with Melog on her right and Adora on her left.

“Alright, you two, no picking up snacks, but let’s see if we can’t spoil you a little,” Catra tells them both, absently reaching down and letting Melog bump up into her hand when they call for attention through the bond. Glimmer said Adora needs to _take_ and Catra is feeling bad about sexiling Melog the way they have been. Both of them are due for some rewards.

Catra takes her little pack through nearly every aisle in the store, letting Adora sniff at the shelves and slowly browse while Melog makes a beeline straight for the things they want. Adora does not pull on the leash - she always lets up every time she feels the collar tightening - but that is certainly _frequently_ as she gets excited by the possibility of sniffing something up ahead. Catra gets a cart quickly, looking down at Adora as she tosses the two toys Melog had grabbed and the one Adora had sheepishly sniffed at into the cart.

“Kind of wish you were human just so you could push the cart for me. It’s hard to do and rein in _two_ of you,” Catra says, reaching down to pet Adora’s head as she does so. Adora twitches her ears back and looks guilty, which just makes Catra roll her eyes as she heads back into the aisles with the leashes looped around her wrist.

She lets Melog and Adora pick out a few toys. Adora is cautious on the toy aisle and Catra has to coax her into looking for things that she and Melog can play with together. It is baby steps, but they will get there. The other shoppers eye all three of them but no one actually says anything to them. A little girl, undeterred by the two predators, runs up and _hugs_ Adora without warning, which has her father apologizing profusely while Adora looks confused and wags her tail, holding very still until the little girl can be extricated from her fluff.

Catra lets Melog pick out a bed for themselves so they have somewhere to sleep when they get kicked out of the bed. Of course they pick the largest one, but Catra has the money and the only reason she minds is it requires flagging down an employee to go fetch a vacuum-sealed version of the memory foam bed from the back of the store. Adora seems _offended_ that she is not allowed to drag the bed around by her teeth as the employee loads the bed up on a dolly to take out to the car.

“I promise I’ll leave it in the car until you can carry it into the house with your very impressive muscles,” Catra tells Adora, only a little condescending as she pats her head. Adora flattens her ears back and glares at Catra, rolling her lip a little as they follow the employee to the front of the store. It is wolf for _cool it with the teasing_ \- Catra is neither bothered nor deterred by it.

They check out, Catra selecting a blue heart tag for Adora and _ignoring_ the way Adora stares up at her in response. Melog’s mane has gone grey, but Adora is some level of colourblind right now too and Catra is going to chose to believe she can’t tell what Melog is projecting either. Adora snuffles into Catra’s hand as she blushes and takes her bags from the cashier.

“Should I put your name on here, or should it be ‘Princess’?” Catra questions, just to be an asshole, when she takes the tag over to the engraver. Adora looks incredibly unimpressed as Catra smirks, punching in _Adora_ for the first line, _werewolf_ for the second, and then inputting her phone number and address for the back of the tag.

Catra walks out of the store laden with shopping bags, a new tag dangling from Adora’s collar, and a store employee trailing behind her, hauling the bed.

\--

When she isn’t holding the reins to two magical beasts, Catra can easily carry the bed herself, but she promised Adora she would let her be the big strong girlfriend, so she leaves it in her backseat for the moment. She lets Melog and Adora walk themselves in, leashes trailing on the ground, as she carries in the shopping bags and sets to emptying them. When she goes to take off Melog’s harness, Adora sits expectantly beside them. Catra raises an eyebrow at her as she unhooks the leash from Adora’s collar and pointedly turns away.

“I’m leaving the collar on. If you end up on the other side of town again, at least someone will know to bring you to me,” Catra tells her, not looking back as she stows away both the leads. There is a moment of silence and then Adora whines like a rusty screen door, nosing forward to nudge at Catra’s lower back as she does so. Catra scowls, but she turns around to face the werewolf. Adora looks guilty and pained, shuffling forward and hanging her head over Catra’s shoulder as if to hug her. Catra lets out a long breath, raising her arms to hug her back as she buries her face in Adora’s mane.

“It’s just going to take awhile for me to believe it won’t repeat. The collar makes me feel better,” Catra mumbles. Adora’s tail wags, thudding against the furniture loudly, but Catra decides to take it as an _I understand_. Adora doesn’t insist on the removal of the collar when Catra pulls away at least. Catra flops down on her bed and motions for Adora to join her. Adora follows happily, and a few minutes later Melog joins them as well until the three of them are all curled together on the mattress, dozing after the early wakeup call and subsequent shopping trip.

Catra wishes Adora was here – _really_ here – but she always enjoyed Princess’s company, and now that she knows it is Adora, even if she misses her girlfriend’s hands and _words_ , she is more than happy to curl into her soft fluff and listen to the heavy thudding of her heart. Adora’s breaths make her fur move like a mountain shifting as she curls right back into Catra, Melog framing her on the other side. They woke and even _left the house_ far too early in the day for Catra, and it is a nice way to grow re-acquainted with this form her girlfriend takes.

Catra is half-asleep and kneading absently into Adora’s side when a flash of light causes her to jolt up, coming face-to-face with Adora blinking rapidly at her. For a moment, they just stare at each other as the glow in Adora’s eyes dims down. Then, Catra lets out a shaky sigh, flinging her arms forward to wrap around her girlfriend and drag Adora down beside her. Adora lets out a call of surprise as Catra pulls her down, but within moments she begins laughing. It is _relief_ , joy and happiness at the proof that now Adora knows, now they are together, they really can make this work.

Maybe Adora can’t be human all the time. Maybe it will take her years more the master her shifting – but she can be _here_ , wrapping Catra in her arms and kissing along the sides of her face, both of their chests bubbling with laughter.

\--

Adora manages to stay human for the rest of the day. When Catra comes home from work, it is to find Adora has done the dishes and the laundry. She has also cleaned every single window in the house. It was more than due given the number of nose prints on the glass, but Catra takes one look at her girlfriend, eyes glowing with anxiety as she stands in the middle of the living room, and decides it is time for a sit-down. She waits, though, not wanting Adora to shift again like she had during Glimmer’s visit. Bringing up the situation at the wrong moment likely won’t go well.

Catra waits until they are getting ready for bed, both in the closet together. They didn’t bother turning on the light inside, enough spilling in from the bedroom, and Adora’s eyes are casting the room in a blue haze as Catra strips out of her work uniform. It is just a nondescript black shirt and whatever pants she feels comfortable breaking up a fight in, so it wouldn’t be uncomfortable to sleep in, but today definitely seems like a day she should sleep naked, if only for Adora’s benefit.

“Adora,” Catra calls softly after she finishes undressing, slipping up behind her girlfriend and wrapping her arms around her waist. Adora lets out a shaking breath, her shoulders dropping as she leans back into Catra’s embrace. Catra drops a kiss between her shoulder blades before resting her cheek there. “Are you okay?” she asks. Adora doesn’t respond, which is all the answer she needs to give.

Catra leads Adora back into the bedroom. Melog is already shrunk down and curled up on a pillow. Adora brought in their new bed before Catra went to work and set it up in the living room, but they have no need for it right now. Catra guides Adora to lay down in the bed beside her, the two of them facing each other so Catra can watch Adora’s expression as she strokes through her hair. Adora is chewing on her lip, clearly upset.

“I just- this whole time, I thought some curse had taken me from you, but it turns out it was my fault. If I was more balanced, if I focused on-“ Adora starts, her voice a little tearful and her eyes softly glowing in the darkness of the bedroom. Catra immediately scowls, swatting Adora’s hip with her tail.

“ _Adora_ , you didn’t know. I blame Shadow Weaver for fucking with you so badly. We’ll figure it out, and make it work. You didn’t fail,” Catra tells her, watching tears form in Adora’s eyes as she speaks, but the glow dims. Catra normally is not this _honest_ , but if it is what Adora needs to stay human, then she can manage it. Despite the tears in her eyes, Adora doesn’t cry, just nodding wordlessly and pulling Catra closer.

Catra doubts Adora actually believes her yet, but progress is slow. She knows that all too well. For now, she is happy to curl into Adora’s arms and listen to her heartbeat with an ear pressed against her chest. Adora’s are still glowing, more than just their dim radiance, casting them both in hazy blue light. Catra bites her lip, her tail thudding once against the mattress with her anxiety.

“Where do you think we would be right now if you had stayed that first night? After five years together?” Catra asks, quietly. Adora’s breathing immediately picks up, a panic attack on the horizon, and Catra curses herself as she scrambles to assure her, wrapping Adora tightly in her arms. “I have a point to this, Adora. It’s okay. I want you to really think about it,” Catra tries. Adora draws in a breath a holds it for several long seconds.

“Married,” she says in a rush of air. Catra’s ears twitch and her face flushes. This time, when her tail thuds against the mattress, it has nothing to do with anxiety.

“Yeah, we would be. What else?” she agrees, softly. Adora’s heartrate picks up a little beneath Catra’s ear as she considers it.

“We would have gone to college and gotten degrees in _something_. We would have entry-level jobs, and everyday we would have come home to each other,” Adora tells her. It is an echo of their words – their schemes, dreams, _fantasies_ – from five years ago, murmured to each other as they moved in together. Catra nods against Adora’s chest.

“We would have a shitty apartment, and you might have taken longer to graduate from missing classes for the whole _wolf_ thing. We wouldn’t have Melog, or ever have met Scorpia or Entrapta or Glimmer,” Catra tells her. Adora lets out a slow breath.

“Or Bow,” she adds. Catra furrows her brow from her spot against Adora’s chest.

“Who the fuck is Bow?” she asks. Adora actually chuckles, drawing her arms around Catra tighter.

“Glimmer’s fiancé. You’ll meet him at the Moon Ritual,” Adora explains. Catra is kind of shocked to find out Glimmer is _engaged_ , but she decides to table that for now. Her point seems to be getting through to Adora, at least.

“The last five years were pain. I’m not going to pretend they weren’t. But I have you now, we have everyone else in our lives, and I don’t want to lose any more time to _what if_ s. We have a house, and a cat, and we’re comfortable enough that you can take all the time you need to get control of your shifting,” Catra points out. Adora lets out a slow breath. Catra isn’t _done_ yet though.

“Maybe, if the last five years hadn’t happened, I would still want that. But I don’t. I just want you now. I never would have been happy at college anyway, and we both know what your attention span is like. For all we know we could have dropped out and I would be working at a bar _anyway_. Which is a job I do like, by the way,” Catra adds on. That seems to do it. Adora huffs a laugh, her arms tightening a bit around Catra as she bends to drop a kiss into Catra’s hair.

“Okay. I’ll try to accept where we are now. I’m grateful to have you back,” Adora tells her. Catra nods against her chest before pulling back to make eye contact again. Adora’s expression is soft, but still has an edge of distress to it. She _wants_ to accept what happened, or at least she sees Catra’s point, but it is going to take time, just like it will for Catra to accept the fact that Adora is here again. Adora bites her lip as she gazes back at Catra, both of them tinged with blue.

“Just talk to me? I need to think about something else or I’ll be worried about shifting in my sleep,” Adora asks, softly. Catra nods, searching for something she can say, some story she can tell, that isn’t from the dark parts of the last five years. That won’t help Adora right now, but anything before that time Adora knows already.

“How much do you understand from Melog?” Catra settles on asking, because even though she was fucking _depressed_ when she met Melog, she had gotten out of the fighting game and was trying to build some semblance of a normal life for the first time since Adora vanishing had shattered their plans. Adora pauses, surprised.

“Just body language. Scents and stuff. I think they can read auras? But that is all I can tell. You two… are linked, right?” Adora questions, her voice a bit hopeful. It was a good choice for a distraction, clearly. Catra nods into her neck and then launches into the story.

She ends up snuggled against Adora’s chest, Melog rising from their pillow to curl up in their larger form right beside them partway through Catra telling Adora about how shit she felt one night, giving up on sleep in favour of some totally unnecessary dawn training. She needed to vent her rage and grief that she had no outlet for anymore because she was _supposed_ to be letting them go. She felt another presence, and when she turned, Melog was there, creeping from the tree line and into her yard.

She does her best to explain the bond, but it isn’t something she really has the words for. Melog is just tied to her now, an ever-present hum in her mind, comforting and grounding. They help each other, both lonely creatures before they met and bonded. Adora listens the whole time, even when Catra totally fails to explain, running her fingers through Catra’s short hair and occasionally pressing kisses to the base of her ears. It seems to have the desired effect of calming her.

They are both exhausted after the emotional toll of the day. Eventually Catra feels herself slipping away into sleep in Adora’s arms. It is both comforting and terrifying – she just has to hope Adora will still be human when she wakes up.


	12. 8. Moon Ritual

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (NSFW-ish Etsy link – no people pictured) [Adora’s collar.](https://www.etsy.com/listing/878019276/bdsm-collar-and-leash-for-sub-white) Sidenote: Finding a high-quality collar that fit She-ra’s aesthetic was surprisingly difficult considering what that aesthetic is. I would have thought there would be more.  
> CW for collar play, done with consent and safe words.

Catra wakes on Tuesday morning with the full moon on the horizon that night and a wolf in her bed. Adora has scooted just out of touching range, sending Catra a guilty look. Catra just rolls her eyes, reaching her hand out for Adora. Adora noses into it gladly, giving an apologetic whimper. Catra _anticipated_ this problem though.

“Where’s my good morning kiss?” Catra asks, teasing and playful in her tone as she sits up and stretches, slow and purposeful. She went to bed in nothing but her underwear last night – that might very well become the new normal for them – and she knows the stretch puts both her tits and her muscles on display. Adora _whimpers_. Catra slits her eyes open to see Adora’s eyes beaming as she watches Catra’s display. Melog is annoyed with these antics first thing in the morning, but Catra just leers down at Adora as she stretches.

“Wouldn’t you rather be wearing your _other_ collar, beautiful?” Catra questions. That does it. Adora’s eyes spark and flair. Within moments her form has shrunk down in a wash of golden light and Catra is grinning at her very flustered girlfriend. Adora went to bed in a loose shirt and underwear, but Catra can already see her flush spilling down the neck of her shirt. She reaches out, a clear beckon, and Adora eagerly crawls over for Catra to wrap up in her arms as Melog flees the room.

“ _Good puppy_ ,” Catra intones, teasing, as she leans up to kiss Adora’s cheek before nipping at the corner of her jaw. Like her clothes, Princess’s collar seems to be sticking with her wolf form now Adora is getting a little better at shifting, but Catra knew she was right about which collar Adora prefers. Adora shudders, whining softly and pressing closer to kiss her properly. Catra purrs into the kiss, but when Adora’s hands come up to grab her waist, Catra pauses.

“How do you feel right now?” she asks, softly, as she wraps her arms around Adora’s shoulders. Above her, Adora huffs and rolls her eyes, sending Catra an exasperated look.

“Turned on. I can consent, Catra. These short shifts are nothing like the first time. I can feel the moon rising, though. I- I think the collar might help me stay,” Adora admits, flushing furiously and ducking her head down into Catra’s throat. She is undoubtedly hiding, but she tries to cover that by pressing kisses against the line of her throat. Catra rumbles softly as she considers that. It makes sense. The constant presence on her neck will undoubtedly help keep Adora turned on at least.

They haven’t really talked about the collar since Adora discovered it on Sunday. They spent most of Monday doing research on werewolves and direwolves online and Catra hadn’t wanted to pressure Adora into anything by bringing it up. Adora had reacted with _interest_ to the collar when she found it, but she was understandably stressed after finding out about her true condition and Catra didn’t want to push anything while she was feeling vulnerable. Now, though, this is Adora’s idea, and the logic makes sense.

“Okay, you can have your collar. We’ll have breakfast, and we can come back to the bedroom after, okay? I just want to give you room to breathe between a shift and really doing anything,” Catra tells her, idly dragging her hands up Adora’s back as she speaks. She lets her claws run along the surface of her skin lightly as she does so. Adora admitted it was the sensation of Catra kneading on her that let her shift back Sunday, so hopefully the claws help ground her now.

Adora nods, her lust spiking at Catra’s words. She looks embarrassed as she rises from the bed, pulling Catra up to her feet easily with her. Catra flushes at the manhandling, but she lets herself be fucking _carried_ into the closet where Adora’s collar is still stowed. Catra wriggles a bit in Adora’s arms once inside, and Adora reluctantly puts her down. Her eyes are glowing, a bit more than their usual dim light. Catra pauses as she goes to approach the chest of drawers. She turns to eye her girlfriend.

“We really haven’t talked about this,” she points out. Adora bites her lip, her eyes flaring a little brighter, but she nods. Catra observes her for a moment, taking in the desire, nerves, and overall _tension_ in her body. “The collar. Obviously you like it, but we need rules,” Catra points out. Adora lets out a slow breath, looking back at her with a sheepish expression as she nods, but she offers no words. Catra narrows her eyes.

“The _pet_ thing, Adora. I need to know what helps, what is okay, and what is degrading,” Catra lays out. Adora’s ears are red now, but she nods before quickly looking away again, contemplating the wall. At least she seems to be thinking about it now. Catra waits, watching the glow from her eyes for any signs of beaming up again.

“I- was so fucking lonely in the woods, Catra. Even if I would have preferred to be with you like this, being Princess was the first time I was happy in a long time. And I- already had a thing for the collar,” Adora admits, in a mumble, looking down at her feet in embarrassment. Catra does her best not to let her tail lash in response and totally fails. Adora presses her lips together for a moment before continuing.

“I like it when you call me _pet_ or whatever, but it is intense, so just… sparingly, I guess? Right now I think I need the constant feeling of the collar to fight the pull of the moon,” Adora tells her, mumbling a little from her embarrassment. Catra extends her hand experimentally, crooking a finger, and watches Adora’s eyes light up – but not _actually_ glow, thankfully – as she hurries forward to close the gap between them and take Catra’s hand in her own. She still keeps her eyes fixed down on their intertwined hands.

The fact that Adora likes being submissive was a secret between them exactly _never_. Catra has known that as long as she knew what it meant. The presence of the collar promises this is going to be more than vanilla sex. Catra reaches out, her fingers slipping just beneath the neck of Adora’s shirt to trace a bruise she left there Monday morning. Adora shudders in response.

“You want me to take care of you. To call you my pet, treat you like my good girl?” she asks. Adora’s desire is _palpable_ , the scent hitting the air as she moans softly. Her eyes fall closed with the sound and she nods eagerly in response. Catra wets her lips.

“You mentioned safewords Sunday. How about red means stop? Pink is to slow down, or for anything you aren’t interested in that isn’t worth a stop, okay? Or you can just tell me, but I need you to remember those two words,” Catra tells her. Adora’s eyes open, intense and _dark_ as she sways forward, seemingly just wanting to be closer to Catra as she nods again.

“Okay. Red for stop. Pink for anything that is too much,” Adora agrees, looking at her seriously as she says it. It makes Catra breathe easier, the intensity on Adora’s face. The last time she saw Adora _dedicated_ like that was when Catra asked her to keep telling her that she never wanted to leave. Catra slides her hand up from Adora’s neck to cup her cheek, watching the way her gaze softens in response.

“Remember balance. If it is too much, if it isn’t helping, tell me. Now kneel,” Catra tells her. Adora’s eyes widen and she falls to her knees, her flush that had been receding spilling down the neck of her shirt again. Catra eyes it. “Take your shirt off. I don’t want to deal with it catching on the leash when we come back to the bedroom,” she orders. Adora shudders, but she follows orders. Catra bends to press a soft kiss into the top of Adora’s hair after she eagerly discards the shirt.

“Good girl. I’m going to collar you now. When you want me to take it off, you say _red_. And Adora?” Catra prompts as she turns away to retrieve the collar from the chest of drawers. Adora makes a soft, questioning noise behind her. Catra watches Adora’s eyes immediately focus in on the collar when she turns back around with it.

“You don’t put the collar on unless you need it to keep from shifting. Then I _want_ you to wear it, but outside of that you don’t wear it without permission,” Catra tells her as she brings the collar up to Adora’s neck. Adora draws in a sharp breath, but she nods once before holding still as Catra sweeps her hair aside and buckles the collar in place. In truth, Catra is just worried about the collar losing its impact. She had not considered the collar helping Adora balance when she got it, but now she knows Adora’s true issue, she wants to preserve the effects of anything that might help.

She buckles the collar where it feels snug, checking she can still slip her fingers between the collar and Adora’s neck despite the tight fit. She doesn’t want to restrict Adora, but she does want her to be able to _feel_ it. Adora’s breath, interestingly, _slows down_ as some of the tension leaks out of her body in response to the restriction.

“If it gets too tight, tell me and I’ll loosen it, okay?” Catra tells Adora as she reaches down to take up the leash handle from where it is dangling down Adora’s bare chest. Her flush is spilling over her shoulders and the tops of her breasts.

“Okay. I like it like this,” Adora assures, her voice a little breathy, but from the darkness in her gaze Catra knows that has nothing to do with a lack of air. Catra smiles down softly to Adora as she tugs on the leash, encouraging her to stand again.

“Tell me if that changes,” she responds, stretching up on her toes to kiss Adora after she rises. Adora hums confirmation into the kiss.

\--

Breakfast is interesting. Catra pulls lightly on the short leash with her left hand, guiding Adora to follow just behind her and assist her as she fixes them breakfast. Adora is wearing the soft bathrobe Catra bought her, tied loosely so she isn’t just walking around _naked._ Melog lounges on the far end of the living room on their fancy new bed and wrinkles their nose at the pheromones in the air, but they would rather stick around until the free meal is over than go out hunting.

Adora swallows thickly when they sit down beside each other to eat.

“Pink? I think I need it loosened to eat,” Adora tells her, looking up at her and clearly unsure. Catra can tell by her scent and expression she doesn’t actually _want_ it loosened, but she is probably right. Catra kisses the top of Adora’s head as she opens the collar two notches and tells Adora it was only one. It works, though. Adora eats without any discomfort and her eyes don’t surpass their usual, low-level glow.

Melog leaves after breakfast, slipping out the back door. Catra takes up Adora’s leash and watches her eyes dilate as she looks up to Catra from her seat. Catra pauses, reaching out with her free hand to stroke through Adora’s hair.

“How are you feeling?” she asks, watching Adora happily lean into her touch. Adora smiles a little, nodding despite how it isn’t a yes or no question.

“Stupidly turned on. Skin’s itching a little, but my head is clear. I want this,” Adora tells her, a bit of a fond smile playing on her lips. Catra purrs softly, slipping around behind Adora to run her finger along the back of the collar.

“What do you want, Adora?” she asks. She loves asking this. She loves watching Adora shudder in response.

“I want you to tighten it. I want to be good for you,” Adora tells her, voice soft and slightly strained. Catra purrs as she halts the drag of her fingers on the buckle. She bends forward, pressing a light kiss against the top of Adora’s head as she undoes the buckle and tightens it a notch again. Adora’s breath slows again and she hums as Catra takes back up her leash. She bends down to murmur Adora’s ear.

“Now, do you want me to top you, or do you want me? I’ll let you be in charge, but we both know who will be holding your leash,” Catra purrs in her ear. Adora immediately lets out a soft groan, nodding quickly, and then hesitating.

“I want to start on top. Feel it out. And then after… I think if you wear me out it might help me stay, at least for a while. I don’t think there’s any stopping it once the sun goes down,” Adora tells her. She sounds _guilty_. Catra frowns, squeezing her shoulders. Adora gets the message – she sighs. “I feel bad. Making you do all this,” she admits, quietly. Catra steps forward to Adora’s side, reaching down to cradle Adora’s jaw and turn her face up to look at her. Adora’s eyes are glowing again. Catra tugs on Adora’s leash, watching her breath stutter and her eyes darken in response. She bends down to kiss Adora’s forehead.

“You aren’t _making_ me do anything, Adora. I want to. As long as you’re enjoying it, I want to,” Catra assures. Adora lets out a shaking breath, seeming relieved, and nods slowly. Catra smiles down at her girlfriend as she pulls back and gently tugs on the leash again. “Now, are you sure you want to do this?” Catra asks again. Adora pauses, and then nods, smiling up at her shyly.

“Yeah. I’m sure,” she agrees.

\--

“Undress me,” Catra commands when they reach the bedroom. Adora follows orders eagerly, kissing, biting, and _marking_ as she removes each article of clothing - laying claim to Catra as she lays her bare. Catra shivers in the wake of Adora’s touch, remembering her doubt in the kitchen.

“No one has seen me like this but you. No one _will_. Remember that, pet,” Catra tells her, voice quiet but firm as she runs her hands through Adora’s hair. She wants this as much as Adora needs it, and she just wants Adora to believe that so she can let go of her guilt and enjoy herself. Adora shudders, nodding eagerly against Catra’s thigh where she is leaving small nips in the wake of Catra’s underwear. Her eyes are half-lidded, dark and hazy with lust.

“If you want me to stop at any point, say _red_ , okay?” Catra reminds her, fisting Adora’s hair and tilting her head back so she has to look Catra in the eye. Adora nods, her expression eager. “Good girl. I want you in nothing but this collar. Then I’ll let you have me,” Catra promises her. Adora perks up, quickly rising to her feet.

She already is almost naked anyway, slipping the robe from her shoulders so it falls to pool around her feet, but as Adora bends to slide off her underwear too, Catra can’t help but think that Adora in nothing but the collar is a _sight_ , one she doesn’t think she will ever grow tired of, though she would love to explore this enough times that _overexposure_ actually becomes a possibility.

Her clothes gone, Adora straightens to look down at Catra, her gaze questioning. Catra purrs to herself as she steps forward, reaching out to take the handle of Adora’s leash, hanging down her chest from when Adora first bent to undress her. Catra tugs on the leash, pulling Adora to the bed. Adora complies willingly, following just behind her and letting herself be tugged down until she is bracing above Catra, gazing down at her with soft but _hungry_ eyes.

“I’m all yours,” Catra tells Adora. Adora shudders, and then she surges forward.

\--

Adora moans, loud and desperate, when Catra tugs on her leash. She doesn’t do it harshly – she doesn’t want to _hurt_ Adora – but it brings Adora back down to drape over her as she presses in. Catra knows why she keeps shifting back, it gives her a better angle to thrust in and is easier on her core muscles than suspending above her, but Catra wants Adora against her for this.

“Leash manners, darling. You want to be a good girl for me, don’t you?” Catra purrs to her. Adora’s eyes fall shut as she whines, panting a little, and nods as desperately as she can with Catra still pulling her leash taut. “Good puppy. No _pulling_ ,” Catra orders. Adora moans as she leans forward and properly braces herself against Catra until the leash is slack between them.

The movements of her hand grow a bit gentler with the new angle, but Catra doesn’t _care_. The high of having Adora naked against her, whimpering, moaning, and breathless, is just as good as her long fingers pressing in, still able to hit that spot that has Catra writhing when she feels it. The slide of Adora’s fingers is addicting, making Catra shudder down into the sheets. If Adora had the coordination to touch her clit too, Catra would have come already, but she also doesn’t want this to _end_ , so she says nothing and keeps one hand firm on the leash, the other fisted in the sheets beside her.

“Want you to come for me,” Adora pants out, nipping along Catra’s jaw and causing her heavy breathing to stutter. Adora’s fingers press that spot within her walls again and Catra feels _ruined_ , desire coursing through every vein in her body as she mewls softly. Her orgasm is so close, but she _needs_ that final push.

“Just for you. Only ever for you,” Catra manages to gasp out, wriggling her hips and keening when it brings Adora’s fingers in roughly on the next thrust. She _needs_ to come at this point, but she doesn’t want to. All she wants for the rest of her life is the ecstasy of this moment crystalized. Adora groans in response, burying her head in Catra’s neck and _biting down_ as she shifts her position. It bears all her weight down on Catra, adding to the overwhelming sensations as she is pinned between Adora’s teeth and her fingers, but it also frees Adora’s other hand to fall between Catra’s legs.

Her movements are clumsy and unsteady, but it doesn’t _matter_. Catra is so worked up, so fucked out, it only takes a few moments of Adora grinding roughly against her clit for her orgasm to rush over her like getting hit with a fucking _truck_ of endorphins. Catra mewls, all her senses lost to her as finally, _finally_ , she comes around Adora’s fingers. She pants desperately, her entire body warm as Adora slows her movements.

Catra dully registers the slow drag of Adora’s fingers pulling out, her body still twitching as she desperately tries to catch her breath. Adora releases the bite on her neck, pressing a soft kiss against the spot once to soothe it. Adora is panting too. Catra slits her eyes open to find Adora pulling back to gaze down at her, all desire and affection. Catra is purring – it is just what she _does_ post-orgasm – as she reaches down to snatch up Adora’s wrist. Adora blinks in surprise, her eyes going wide as Catra pulls her soaked fingers in front of her face.

“Clean it up,” she orders, her breaths still laboured. Adora’s eyes go wide, her flush darkening, but after hesitantly licking her lips she leans forward and drags her tongue along the underside of her fingers. Her eyes fall closed immediately as she groans, apparently more than _satisfied_ with the taste. The pads of her fingers are actually slightly wrinkled for being wet for so long, but Adora eagerly presses her fingers into her mouth, needing no guidance from Catra now as she licks and sucks them clean. Catra fucking _trembles_ beneath her, watching Adora flare her nostrils and moan softly just from her _taste_.

“Good girl. You deserve to be fucked so well,” Catra manages, her words shaky from how badly she needs to _have_ Adora now. Adora whines, her eyes flying open and pleading. She pulls her fingers from her mouth, strands of saliva breaking as she drops her hand to brace herself on the mattress and licks her lips.

“Please,” she begs. It is all Catra needs to hear.

\--

Adora is practically _growling_ , her groans desperate as she pants into Catra’s shoulder. Catra has three fingers buried in her, Adora keening and shifting as Catra fucks her rough with one hand and works her clit with the other. They are both half-sat up, Adora leaning back against the wall and biting Catra’s shoulder. Her arms and legs are wrapped around Catra’s back, and Catra is pretty sure she is just trying to wrap around her in every way she can.

Catra curls her fingers and Adora _whines_ around the mouthful of fur she has, her hips stuttering forward. Catra thinks she is close. She seems utterly overwhelmed by all the stimulation, but the scent of her desire is so strong it is approaching _intoxicating_ , so Catra isn’t inclined to stop. Besides, none of Adora’s muffled moans has approached a _stop_ or _red_.

She still has the collar on, the handle of the leash pinned beneath Catra’s knee so some tension is maintained on the leash. Adora seems to like that, and occasionally Catra shifts her weight to up the pressure and then eases off again, earning moans every time.

“Oh, you’re so desperate for me, aren’t you, pet? You want to come again for me?” Catra questions, earning another whimpering moan. Adora nods against her shoulder the best she is able to between the bite and the taut leash, her breath coming in stutters out her nose as Catra hits her with a particularly rough thrust at the same time that she bears her weight down on the leash again.

Adora comes for the third time moaning and twitching, her entire body stiffening for a moment before she goes limp, sagging against the wall and finally releasing Catra’s shoulder as her liquid heat contracts around her fingers. Catra strokes her through it a few more times until Adora is shuddering beneath her, and then she slowly pulls her fingers out as Adora’s walls twitch with aftershocks.

Adora is panting, her skin sweaty and flushed, her hair clinging to her forehead from sweat. Her lips are bitten just from the pressure of holding onto Catra’s shoulder. She looks _wrecked_ , causing Catra to purr with satisfaction. Adora did say she needed to be _worn out_. Catra lifts her weight off the leash, shifting down on the bed. She grabs Adora’s hips, tugging her down with her until Adora is laid out on her back, head on the pillow and blinking up at her with a dazed expression, still coming back to herself.

“Good girl, Adora. I’m going to mark you now. Tell me if it is too much,” Catra tells her, pressing a light kiss to Adora’s forehead as she moves to straddle Adora’s hips. Adora shudders, her eyes fluttering, and nods. She is still trying to catch her breath, shivering in the wake of Catra’s touch. Catra reaches out, placing her fingertips underneath Adora’s chin and pressing up, tilting her head back to expose her throat as she wipes her other hand off on the sheets. She wants to taste Adora, but there will be time for that later. Right now, her mouth has another purpose.

Catra sets to work _framing_ the collar in bruises, drinking in every moan Adora gives, every absent twitch, until Catra has worked down the sides of her neck to darken her shoulders too. Werewolves heal wounds easily, but apparently lovebites aren’t severe enough to register as damage, because Adora still has faded bruises from when they made out yesterday. Catra will be interested to see how long these marks last, but she isn’t worried about them fading quickly – if they do, that just means she gets to refresh them sooner.

Adora’s hand falls into her hair as Catra pulls back to observe her handywork. Adora’s eyes are still dark with lust, but she has regained the ability to form expressions, and she is gazing up at Catra with a look of utter affection. Catra feels herself flush, but she ducks forward to kiss Adora, gentle and slow to keep in mind her unsteady breathing.

“Do you want me to take the collar off now? I don’t want it to start hurting. I think you’re _plenty_ turned on,” Catra asks, stroking the side of Adora’s face on her path down to the buckle. Adora hums softly, tilting her head forward to allow Catra access to the back of her neck. “Good girl. You did so well for me,” Catra assures her as she makes short work of the collar, setting it aside to gently ghost her fingers over the sides of Adora’s neck, pressing soft kisses against the pale, unmarked skin as Adora’s breathing stutters its way to calm.

“I love you,” she breathes, her hands coming up to tangle in Catra’s hair. She hums softly as Catra’s heart pounds. “Thank you,” she adds. Catra scoffs, dismissal far easier than emotion. Still, she hesitates.

“You don’t have to thank me, idiot. I wanted to,” she promises. She draws in a deep breath. “And I love you too,” she breathes. Every time she says it, it gets a bit easier.

\--

Catra wasn’t expecting _marathon sex_ to be how they handled full moons, but she probably should have given how weird this whole thing has been. By the end of the day, she has stopped counting the rounds, but she would be lying if she said her favourite part wasn’t laying in Adora’s arms afterwards as they coast on the hormones and whisper gentle assurances to each other.

They notice the sky darkening when they head to the kitchen for more water. Melog is nowhere to be found still. They usually return to the Whispering Woods during the full moon anyway, but after the first – what, five rounds? – they decided to spend the day there in addition to the night. Catra is going to have to spend a lot of time with them tomorrow, but today she has been a bit pre-occupied enjoying her girlfriend while she still has hands.

“The moon is– I think we’re done now. I’m not going to be able to hold it down much longer,” Adora tells her, looking out the back door at the sunsetting above the Whispering Woods. Catra slips up behind her, pressing a soft kiss between her shoulder blades.

“Okay. I’ll need you to tell me how to get to the Moon Ritual before you shift, though,” Catra points out. She knew all day they were just delaying the inevitable, but it was a _fun_ delay. The price to keep Adora human is one she is more than willing to pay. Besides, they kind of needed this. Adora has grown more confident throughout the day, her guilt slipping away as orgasm after orgasm has proved Catra is enjoying this just as much as she is. Hopefully that guilt-free desire will help her balance out.

“Everything looks different when I’m human. Different colours, even different shapes a little from the wider field of view. That’s why I couldn’t find our apartment again once I was a wolf. I don’t think I could even hunt down my den in this form and it isn’t far from here. Texting Glimmer is your best bet for instructions,” Adora tells her, shaking her head. Catra blinks in surprise for a moment, but then she nods against Adora’s shoulder. She hadn’t considered how much changes when Adora is a wolf. She knew her thoughts were different – that is obvious from how badly she wants to lick Catra as a dog – but she hadn’t considered the entirely new set of senses.

“Tell me about your den. Is that where you were for the last five years?” Catra asks, both as a distraction and because she wants to know what Adora has been up to. As she asks, she tugs on Adora, encouraging her to pull herself away from the door so they can settle on the couch together. Adora pauses, cocking her head a little as she sits down. Catra immediately stretches her feet out into Adora’s lap as she pulls her phone out of her robe pocket to text Glimmer.

“I don’t really remember the first few weeks, maybe months. I was too _wolf_ to access those memories as a human. The den called to me during that. Instinct, I guess. It is an old shrine. Predates the Moon Ritual as a gathering spot for werewolves, but it is abandoned now,” Adora explains, looking out into the woods like she is going see the shrine through the trees.

“It isn’t _too_ far from here, but I usually headed deeper into the woods, not _out_. The magic from the heart of the woods helped to soothe my head when my thoughts were feeling too human and hurt,” Adora explains, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the trees. Catra draws in a breath. To think Adora was so _close_ this entire time but wandering in the wrong direction – it hurts, even if she is trying to accept when they are now as much as Adora is.

Catra’s phone chimes, a message from Glimmer listing directions popping up with a map attachment. She is grateful for the distraction, but she frowns at the highlighted path.

“There’s a road into the heart of the woods?” she asks Adora, because as far as she knew the deepest you could get into the woods by car was Thaymor. Adora pauses, glancing down at the phone despite not being able to see the screen at her angle, and shakes her head.

“People from outside the woods drive to Thaymor and park there. After that it is a hike,” she explains, making vague gestures with her hands. Catra groans.

\--

The hike is not that bad it turns out. _Everyone_ who sees them eyes them up, but Catra just stares back with an impassive bitchface, and eventually people focus on looking where they are walking. Apparently there is some magic bullshit that shortens the trek, because it takes just as long to hike from the parking field as it did to drive the same distance into the woods. Adora trots happily at her side, occasionally tugging on her leash to sniff at a passerby, but no one seems to mind a giant golden wolf approaching them here.

A few people definitely take offence to the leash, but it isn’t their _problem_ , and Adora doesn’t mind. She shifted during sunset, obediently sitting for Catra to clip the lead onto Princess’s collar before they drove out to the woods once darkness had settled in.

They don’t pass anyone Catra recognizes on the trail. Even without her night vision, Catra would recognize someone she knows. The trail is well-lit by warmly-glowing lanterns, swinging from posts or hanging from the trees and branches. Light orbs float about the trail and what must be _hundreds_ of fireflies flock towards the magic lights, appearing like sparks dancing in the air all around the well-trodden path.

“I can’t believe you lived in the woods for two years before you found this,” Catra tells Adora, absently, earning a chuff and an expression roughly equivalent to an eyeroll. She smirks to herself as she continues on, ruffling Adora’s ears. Adora told her the story of how she met Glimmer on Monday. It wasn’t even _during_ the Moon Ritual.

The path today is awash with light, life, and _noise_ as people chatter to each other. Adora wandered upon the abandoned trail, lanterns dark and the scents of many footsteps present, and followed it to the ritual circle. Glimmer was there a day early, preparing the space and bringing some items for a ritual. Of all the times to find the space, Adora did so when it was largely _abandoned_.

It is not empty now. They crest a hill on the path and find themselves at the top of a basin, an indent in the woods the size of a football field stretching out before them. Scattered throughout the basin are statues, small shrines, and elegant tables laden with objects Catra doesn’t doubt are magical but does not recognize in the slightest. The lanterns and floating lights continue throughout the basin, making it warmly glow in the middle of the dark forest as the trees part overhead, near the center of the basin, to allow moonshine to pour through and illuminate a large stone altar. Crystal formations rise from the ground around the altar, softly glowing and _emanating_ the moonlight.

The sense of magic is so strong it feels like a physical barrier they cross as they step down the earthen steps carved into the side of the basin. It is like sinking into a warm swimming pool, surrounded and immersed in something dangerous and yet almost _comforting_ despite the power it holds. Adora’s eyes flare brighter as they finally reach the main ground of the basin. People are _everywhere_ , the chatter of a party all around them as people joyously greet old friends and family members.

Catra has never seen this many monstrous folk in one place. There are spriggans, nymphs, a fucking _hydra_ on the far side of the ritual circle, and much to her relief, other werewolves. Catra isn’t really sure what they are here for aside to give Adora a chance to somehow talk with others like her, but that is a bit difficult to do in her current form.

“Okay, now what?” Catra questions. Adora’s ears swivel back to her before she turns to make eye contact, flicking an ear and nudging her head forward. A _follow me_ , Catra assumes. She nods, and Adora turns forward again, leading Catra by the leash now as she weaves through the crowd.

People know Adora. Catra supposes she shouldn’t be surprised considering how much Adora sticks out in a crowd, and also the fact that she has been _part_ of the ritual for a few years now. It still stings a little, seeing how many faces light up with recognition as Adora trots by. Years where they were both alone, and yet so many people knew Adora without knowing a thing _about_ her. She was the cursed wolf to them, most likely, and that was it.

“How many people here have seen you in your human form?” Catra asks as Adora leads them towards the altar. Adora pauses to turn and level her with a flat look. She knows the thought that just occurred to Catra and seems terribly unimpressed. Adora doesn’t need words to communicate the thought of _no one you don’t know already_. Catra relaxes a little. If Adora shifted back naked in front of the _entire coven_ , Catra’s jealousy might not be able to take it.

A whistle rings out in the crowd and Adora’s ears instantly twitch, her head whipping around in the direction of the sound. Catra doesn’t get to ask what that means before Adora is pulling them forward. No one else reacts but for a few flattened ears and winces, so clearly it isn’t part of the proceedings, but Adora beams straight for it until they manage to part through the crowd and find Glimmer, standing near one of the crystal formations and idly chatting with a man several inches taller than her and sporting a bun.

Adora’s tail begins to wag and she surges forward. Catra drops her leash, not wanting to strain her lingering sore spots holding Adora back. Adora runs up to Glimmer and the man, wagging her tail as Catra trails behind her excited girlfriend. The man, human at least in appearance, startles when Adora bounds up to him and immediately drops into a play-bow, her tail wagging hard enough her entire butt is moving with it.

“Oh, Adora! I’m so glad to see you. Glimmer let me know as soon as you reached out, but I missed you,” the man says, smiling broadly and crouching down to scratch behind Adora’s ears and then hug her. Adora lets out an affirmative _boof_ as Catra finally sidles up behind her and bends to pick up the leash again.

The human startles _again_ at Catra’s appearance. At least it makes Glimmer laugh. She saw Catra approach, but the man was a little busy hugging Adora. Catra raises an eyebrow at the man as she loops the leash around her wrist.

“Catra, Adora’s girlfriend,” Catra offers. She doesn’t reach out a hand to shake. It is a stupid human custom and she wants nothing to do with it. The man doesn’t seem offended, merely straightening and smiling broadly as he gives a quick, half-bow.

“Bow, Glimmer’s fiancé. I’m only a family member of the coven, but I’m a researcher by trade, so I worked on Adora’s condition quite a bit,” the man informs her, his hand absently dropping to pet Adora’s ears. Catra suddenly realizes how Adora felt Saturday night, seeing her mark Scorpia’s bed. She doesn’t like seeing other people touch Adora so casually, even if Adora is clearly _fine_ with it. She leans into Bow’s touch and even thumps her leg a few times when Bow’s fingers almost find the right spot on her neck.

Catra clicks her tongue. Adora opens her eyes, which had fallen closed in her contentment, and turns to look to Catra questioningly. Catra reaches out her hand and beckons Adora closer. Adora pulls away from Bow’s side, nudging up into her touch. Catra pets the top of her head a few times before dragging down to find the _right_ spot and begin scratching. Adora immediately begins thumping, panting happily as she leans heavily into the attention and leaves scuff marks in the mossy ground-covering beneath her pounding leg.

“How is Lonnie?” Catra asks Glimmer, turning her attention away from Bow. It is petty, sure, but Adora is _hers_. She knows her, even as a wolf, better than anyone else because she just knows _Adora_. Glimmer jerks her head to the right in response.

“Grateful for the full moon. She has been stuck in human form since she woke up. She still doesn’t remember anything, but our current research indicates it is impossible for undead to record memories, so she likely never will. I think she is over with a couple of the werewolves I want Adora to socialize with,” Glimmer tells her. It is a clear instruction to follow the direction she has indicated, but Catra hesitates. She doesn’t want to let Adora leave her sight, but if Lonnie is over there, Catra shouldn’t go.

“She said she didn’t want to see me,” Catra points out. She can’t fucking _blame_ her, Catra can hardly handle seeing Lonnie herself, so she can’t bring herself to violate that and go where she knows Lonnie is. Glimmer’s expression softens a little as she shakes her head.

“She knew you were coming. I warned her. She has someone here for her tonight. It’ll be fine,” Glimmer assures, waving in the direction she first indicated again. Catra frowns, but she hesitantly nods. Bow wishes Adora goodbye with ear scratches while he tells her to _pant if you promise to never vanish like that again_ , and they set off before Catra’s bitter jealousy can climb too high.

\--

When they find a small gathering of werewolves, a few werecats, and one distinctive werehyena, Catra lets out a slow breath and tugs on Adora’s leash, causing her to pull to a halt and look back at her curiously. Catra’s ears pin back as she reaches down and unclips Adora’s leash, looping it around her hand as Adora stares at her with blatant surprise.

“Don’t you dare leave my field of view, but- go ahead. I’ll hang back,” Catra tells her. Adora ducks her head, looking sad and guilty as she nudges at Catra’s hip. Catra sighs. “I really just want to give her space. Stay within sight and I’ll be fine,” Catra assures her, petting her ears and kissing the top of Adora’s head. When she pulls back, Adora doesn’t look any more confident, but she reluctantly follows orders when Catra shoos her in the direction of the wolfpack.

Catra hangs back several meters, partially camouflaged in the crowd as she watches Adora approach the other wolves. Apparently these werewolves aren’t taken by their wolf instincts. No one challenges Adora, just immediately coming up and greeting her. Within moments, they are all sniffing each other and wagging their tails cautiously. Adora seems to recognize a few of the wolves, greeting them more boisterously than the others and getting similar greetings in response.

It can’t be possible for Lonnie to recognize Adora as a wolf seeing as she was _dead_ then, but her spine ridge fluffs up a little as she hangs back, and Catra knows she has picked up her scent on Adora. She bites her lip as Adora cautiously sniffs at Lonnie and projects _are you okay_ from every part of her. Lonnie lets her, and after a few tense moments Lonnie slips back in the pack and Adora turns her attention back to the other wolves. Catra lets out a breath of relief. She wasn’t expecting a fight or anything, but she was expecting _something_.

Catra stiffens all over again when she catches a familiar scent on the wind, a scent she hasn’t known in two years. Her fur bristles even as a hesitant call of _Catra?_ raises behind her. Catra isn’t taking her eyes off Adora for anything. She raises a hand, beckoning over her shoulder for the changeling to approach. A few moments later, Kyle and Rogelio appear at her side, Kyle looking as meek as always and Rogelio eyeing her. Catra swallows, keeping her eyes locked on Adora interacting with the rest of the pack.

“Lonnie reached out?” she asks, to break the silence. She rarely ever saw Kyle before _anyway_ – Rogelio’s changeling roommate was far too fragile to be anywhere near the fights – but Rogelio used to be a frequent opponent of Scorpia’s. He was just a dirty boxer, no blood on his hands. After Lonnie’s death, none of them spoke or fought together again. Within a year, Catra and Scorpia had managed to claw their way out of the underground. She never wondered what became of Rogelio – she didn’t want to know.

“Yeah. We were shocked. Rogelio took some busted ribs last year and he got out shortly after you and Scorpia vanished. We didn’t know Lonnie was- _back_ in fighting,” Kyle tells her. He isn’t eying her, he doesn’t know how to be suspicious like that, but there is clear curiosity in his gaze. Catra scoffs.

“I’ll put fifty down that Hordak arranged that hoping it would either take Rogelio out too, or that he would fall into retirement and there would be no one left who was close enough to Lonnie to tell,” Catra tells him. Kyle’s eyes go wide as Rogelio grumbles a few syllables of agreement. Catra’s lizardfolk ranges from shit to nonexistent, but she still gets the spirit of it. Rogelio has already thought about it and come to that conclusion. Catra draws in a breath and takes the risk on looking away from Adora to face the two of them.

“Can I give you my number? Lonnie doesn’t want to see me, and I understand that, but if something happens, if I can do anything- I’d prefer if you could reach me,” Catra asks. Kyle nods immediately, reaching into his pocket to draw out his phone. Catra enters her number with shaking fingers as Rogelio pulls his phone out too. After a few moments, they have all exchanged numbers, and Catra puts her own phone away with her lungs feeling tight, but a lightness in her heart.

That lightness _plummets_ when she hears Lonnie’s familiar snarl. She whips around, already starting forward to run to Adora’s side. Lonnie and Adora are wrestling, powerful jaws on each other, and panic floods through every inch of Catra’s body as she starts forward to intervene and finds herself _stopped_ by a strong, clawed grip on her arm.

Catra turns on Rogelio, snarling a warning to _let her go_. She has to go help Adora. Rogelio only knew her peripherally as a cage fighter and friend of Lonnie’s. He doesn’t know how willing Catra is to _tear_ for her friends – how every slice Catra ever made was for Adora, in truth. Catra’s entire body is sparking to life, gearing up for a fight, but she draws to a halt when she sees how _passive_ Rogelio is, lightly shaking his head in response.

Catra draws in a breath and twists back towards Adora, actually _looking_ this time. It takes her about two seconds to realize Lonnie and Adora are _wrestling_ , friendly and unchallenging. That wasn’t Lonnie’s death growl – it was a noise Catra has heard her make many times when they were training together. Adora drops into a play-bow and Lonnie surges forward again, grabbing her by her scruff. Without putting true strength into it, Lonnie cannot so much as _nudge_ Adora, far too small to challenge her large frame, but the two are having fun amidst the rest of the pack. A few others are playing as well, although Lonnie and Adora are the only ones full-on wrestling.

Catra forces herself to take deep breaths as she straightens, leaving her readied crouch. Her fur lies flat and she shoots Rogelio a brief but grateful look. She doesn’t really want to take her eyes off Adora again, but Rogelio catches her eyes and nods in response.

\--

Adora mingles with the other werecreatures for upwards of an hour, occasionally playing with one of them, but mostly seeming to socialize or simply exist in their midst, absorbing the _balanced magic in the air_ or whatever. Catra and Kyle awkwardly chat for a while, but eventually Bow appears in front of the pack. He seems to be instantly recognized by _all_ of them, so clearly he gets around despite not being a true part of the coven, but Bow only briefly greets the others before calling out to Lonnie.

“That’s our cue,” Kyle sighs. Catra doesn’t really know what that means, but she waves goodbye to the pair as they split off to follow Lonnie and Bow, and not long after Adora darts away from the pack of werecreatures to come bounding up to Catra, rubbing up against her for no good reason and panting happily as she wags her tail.

“I don’t know about _more balanced_ , but did you at least have fun?” Catra questions as she bends to clip Adora’s leash back on her collar. Adora gives a low bark, clear confirmation, before snuffling at Catra’s hair and getting a lick in before Catra can dodge. Catra hisses at her, annoyed as she reaches up to fix her mussed hair. She shakes out her ears too, not wanting any of Adora’s dog drool on her. She sends a glare down to Adora in response. Adora has no shame, beaming up at her and wagging her tail happily.

Catra opens her mouth, about to admonish Adora for the drool when she feels a tingle down her back that she _knows_. Even after five fucking years she knows it, her back going ramrod straight, fur standing on end and a low growl beginning in her throat. Adora startles, an answering growl beginning in her throat despite the fact she clearly has not sensed the threat. Catra can’t explain it, not as she desperately casts her gaze around for a flicker of movement.

It isn’t like in the mansion, still and quiet and _dead_ , where the wisps stood out easily. Here, there is movement and life everywhere, but somewhere amongst the laughing and chattering people there is _death_. Catra catches a flickering movement up the hill, just at the edge of the light. Her gaze narrows in on it as the shadow stills.

It could just be a shadow, but Catra’s skin is _crawling_ as she stares at the dark shape, just beyond to the warm magical glow of the basin. She can’t look away from it to search for a reasonable source for it, but she doesn’t see one in her periphery, and she just _knows_. As Adora follows her line of sight, her growl grows from an automatic echo to true warning, and that is all the confirmation Catra needs that she was right.

The shadow flickers and vanishes, dissolving as light floods into the space it once occupied. Dismissed by its master after being caught, likely. The terrible crawling feeling disappears with it, Catra suddenly able to breathe air again and _gasping_ a little as her fur lies flat and her ears begin to swivel, on high alert after plastering to her head. Several people around her and Adora are staring and whispering amongst themselves, but Catra doesn’t have time for them as she makes eye contact with Adora and a thread passes between them.

They have to find Glimmer.

\--

Adora leads her towards Glimmer was, but she is gone now. Next she pulls her towards the large altar in the middle of the basin, given a wide berth by the attendees, but a ringing bell sounds out before they reach it, and Adora looks up at her with an apologetic expression as the gathered crowd begins to fall hush and turn towards the altar.

“It’s starting?” Catra questions. Adora flicks an ear, a yes, and starts pulling her away from the altar instead, retreating towards the sides of the basin with the rest of the coven to get a better view of the proceedings. Catra reluctantly follows, hoping that the wisp they saw was merely a spy or sentry and not the beginning of something _more_.

Angella is by the altar. Catra has difficulty seeing around all the people, but Angella is a tall figure that rises above their heads. She calls out a greeting while Catra, paranoid and on edge, watches the shadows. Coven news – successfully getting an accessibility bill passed in the Bright Moon council, new recruitment numbers for the month, and the promotion of an inner member – has no hope of catching her attention as she watches the darkness.

She isn’t really paying attention to Angella as she and Castaspella direct some kind of light show that definitely has a purpose, but mostly seems to involve transferring magic and energies between the crystal formations growing on and around the altar. The magic they are using makes Catra’s nose twitch, but she tries to ignore it. It is only going to make it more difficult to detect if another wisp appears.

Catra kind of doubts it will. Shadow Weaver hated the coven and was vocal about them _chaining magic_. She probably only felt that way because her chosen discipline was illegal, but she avoided anything to do with them to avoid detection. Catra once considered turning Shadow Weaver into the coven, but she _knew_ somehow and began a campaign of disinformation that they would experiment on Adora, not just taking her magic but taking her _apart_ until they found out why she couldn’t perform spells. It was enough to cow Catra as a child.

If Shadow Weaver has grown the balls to attempt to spy on the coven, well, Catra can guarantee who made the ghouls then. Nothing happening at the altar, not even the _singing ritual_ taking place between a dozen witches, can draw her eyes from scanning the crowd. Her paranoia is just too high to change her focus, at least until she catches sight of Lonnie at the front of the crowd as Glimmer steps up to the center stage.

“If you have not been to the Nexus in the last few days, this may come as news to you, but the coven has uncovered an illegal necromancer raising sentient beings and puppeteering them for profit,” Glimmer announces. A hush falls over the crowd, whispers passed back and forth, but not many people seem shocked. Catra overheard the word _necromancy_ many times throughout the night, the news spreading throughout the gathering before Glimmer could deliver it in a formal fashion.

“The necromancer is still at large, and though we are doing our thorough duty and investigating all known necromancers in the area, rest assured that all evidence points to an unknown sorcerer outside of the coven. Please, do not turn your suspicion on your neighbours, but if you know of _any_ signs of unsanctioned necromancy, I urge you to reach out to me personally,” Glimmer adds, gesturing vaguely in the direction of a woman dressed in a frilly pink dress near the edge of the crowd. She looks the farthest thing from a necromancer Catra can imagine, but from the way people were edging away from her, she can pick up on the context clues.

“On a final and related note, we are welcoming a new lich to the coven. Her transition was unplanned, but I personally oversaw it. The coven will be happy to assist her in maintaining her unlife and aging safely,” Glimmer adds, gesturing to where Lonnie stands. Murmurs of surprise run through the crowd, but no one challenges Glimmer’s statement. Catra doesn’t know if that is a thing that happens sometimes, but the current circumstances seem like they might warrant it. Without knowing all the details, Catra wouldn’t trust either Lonnie or Glimmer in this.

Glimmer beckons Lonnie forward and the hyena approaches as Angella and Castaspella flank her. Lonnie draws to a halt before them, and the three of them draw runes in the air, although the runes are all different. Glimmer activates hers first, followed by Castaspella and then Angella. Light dances over Lonnie’s fur, causing it to rustle with an invisible wind, and Lonnie shudders a little as Glimmer dismisses her with a half-bow.

Glimmer departs the altar and Angella steps up, conducting some kind of magical ceremony over a bunch of changeling children. There isn’t much introduction to it, but it seems to be meant to keep their bodies from mutating. Changelings are still perfectly healthy once their bodies begin to change, but they are – to most of humanity - borderline _grotesque_ to look at. Catra knows Kyle underwent this growing up so he could continue to live amongst humans without being shunned like other monstrous folk tend to be.

After the ritual, Angella begins to make a shift into what Catra can only assume is closing remarks. She looks down to Adora, and Adora flicks an ear in agreement. The moment Angella calls good evening to the crowd, they start to make their way forward.

\--

“What do you mean you saw a shadow?” Glimmer questions, her brow furrowed. A few feet away, Angella and Castaspella are pretending to chatter while they listen in intently. Catra sighs in frustration, looking down to Adora for help she can’t _give_ right now.

“A shadow wisp, first tier of undead. It was just outside of the basin. I felt it, and then we both saw it. Once it realized it had been caught, it disappeared. The necromancer sent it back into the beyond,” Catra tells her. Adora flicks an ear once in agreement. Angella is doing a terrible job of pretending not to pay attention considering the pinched concern on her face. Though many people are leaving the basin, there are also several groups of people hanging back nearby, clearly waiting for their turn to speak with the coven leaders. They can fucking _take a number_.

“Listen, I grew up in her fucking lab, I know what her magic feels like. It is Shadow Weaver. How many illegal necromancers could be running around Bright Moon anyway? Don’t answer that, I like sleeping at night,” Catra tells her, tail lashing in her agitation. The people waiting are staring, but she doesn’t _care_. After five fucking years, the bitch that haunted her every waking moment is _back_ , her sick magic chasing them again. Lonnie is within earshot, standing on the other side of Angella and watching them intently, _evidence_ of all that Shadow Weaver has done.

At her side, Adora whimpers softly. Catra cuts off from what was about to be a tirade about necromancy to look down at Adora. Adora’s eyes are beaming, gazing up at her soulfully, her distress clear. Catra takes a deep breath, reaching down to pet the top of Adora’s head.

“It’s okay, darling. I’m going to keep you safe. You’ve done really well tonight,” Catra tells her, taking a moment to assure her girlfriend. It is well past midnight – that is when the ritual _began_ – but despite being the early hours of the morning, the moon is still present in the sky. The best Catra can do for Adora right now is soothe her. Adora went through all the same shit she did at the hands of Shadow Weaver and she doesn’t even have the _words_ to decry her right now.

Adora nudges up into her hands, scooting closer. Catra raises her hands to wrap around Adora’s shoulders, holding her for a moment. It helps her get her own bearings, both of them leaning on each other for support-

The body beneath her is warm and _glowing_. Catra pulls back in shock as, beneath the light of the moon, Adora shifts back and blinks down at her. She doesn’t seem surprised, just _relieved_ as she wraps her arms around Catra’s shoulder and draws her into a tight hug. Catra _squeaks_ , staring up at the sky where yes, she can see the beginning of the dawn light, but she can also _clearly_ see the moon still.

“It turns out, thinking about Shadow Weaver gives me enough darkness to balance out the light,” Adora mutters wryly in her ear. A disbelieving laugh bubbles in Catra’s chest as she raises her arms again and _clutches_ Adora back. Catra can hear the people still waiting whispering to each other, but despite how her ears swivel to track them, Catra doesn’t _give a shit_ about the others. She lets herself breathe in Adora, a purr rumbling in her chest as she clings to her girlfriend, before she forces her herself to pull back enough to look at Glimmer again.

Glimmer is watching them with _fascination_ , and Catra can see the cogs turning in her head trying to figure out how that happened, but she is just grateful they took the collar off early enough in the day that Adora didn’t shift back wearing it. She doesn’t think either of them would have lived that down. As it is, Adora is dressed in a t-shirt and sweatpants that won’t stand up to the cold outside of the basin, but at least she is _decent_.

“Go to the address I gave you. Necromancy like this and one of her shadows showing up can’t be a coincidence,” Catra tells Glimmer. Glimmer looks to Adora and is met with a solemn nod.

“It was her magic, I’ve felt it enough times to know,” Adora agrees. Glimmer lets out a slow breath and nods, cringing a little.

“I hate to ask this, but come with us to check it out? If she is still there or has laid traps, someone who knows her magic would be a valuable resource,” Glimmer asks.

Catra is shocked Adora doesn’t shift back then and there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s filth, I know it’s filth, you know it’s filth, but now I’ve done puppydora in the capacity that I’m going to (although this will not be the last appearance of the collar <.<). Listen it was an eventuality okay.  
> EDIT: my custom skin was fucked up and displayed the wrong chapter title for like 2 hours, so if you saw that, no you didn't, and shhhhhh no spoilers.


	13. 9. Echoes through time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m bored have this a day early.  
> Drow are dark elves (Shadow Weaver). I might make a small bestiary to go with my fic meta/notes at the end.

The Old Neighbourhood looks different than Catra remembers. Her memory doesn’t fail her, not like this – the streets have changed, many of the houses revitalized with repairs and fresh coats of paint. Even Shadow Weaver’s dilapidated pile of junk has some new siding, though it can’t do much to hide what a piece of shit the house is, but it at least keeps it from sticking out too obviously on the street and drawing attention. Maybe the neighbours complained.

“Did it look like this growing up?” Glimmer asks, disgust wrinkling her nose as she stairs up on the house frame. Catra and Adora both exchange tense glances.

“Worse,” they agree, simultaneously. Adora cringes looking at the front door and Catra’s tail is _lashing_.

“How the hell did she get approved to foster you?” Glimmer asks as they pick their way across the scraggly front lawn - littered with dead bushes, brown grass, and trash - to make their way to the collapsing front porch. Shadow Weaver was either very committed to the _haunted house_ aesthetic or gave less than half a fuck about her surroundings. Catra scoffs, exchanging another look with Adora.

“It was the _Silver Raids_ , Glimmer. There were more folk orphans than government employees, not to mention the _normal_ orphans also needed somewhere to go, and they couldn’t trust that any humans wanting to foster folk weren’t secretly part of the Raiders and looking to _kill them_ or something. Any folk looking to foster got approved. Shadow Weaver made some sparks and they didn’t even do a _home check_ ,” Catra points out. Glimmer looks pained as she steps up to the front door and nods, raising her hand-

Catra snatches her arm out of the air, hissing quietly. “Were you about to _knock_?” she asks, incredulous. Glimmer pauses, looking back at the front door like she is just realizing that she was, in fact, about to knock. Glimmer lowers her hand sheepishly, mouthing _sorry_. Catra scowls, reaching for the doorknob herself.

Her fur bristles as the door swings open and she peers inside the dark entry hall. To her relief, it is just fear and anticipation, no magic in the air triggering the sensation. She turns back to look at Adora. Adora’s expression is dark, her eyes beaming, but she nods her agreement.

“Shadow Weaver isn’t here, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t traps. Be careful,” Catra relays to their sparkly addition.

\--

There aren’t traps. There isn’t _anything_. The house is more rundown and there is new debris scattered about, but aside from having to progressed from _fixer upper_ to _unsafe for human habitation_ , the house is how they left it. The furniture in the living room is more water-stained now and there is a large scorch mark on the floor of the upstairs hallway, but it is just like walking into a memory.

The floor creaks threateningly on the second floor, and after a quick sweep they retreat to the first floor for fear of falling through. Catra swallows when they reach a shabby white door, clawmarks dug into the floor outside of it from their childhood.

“There’s nothing magic in there. You don’t have to go in there,” Adora tells her, softly, a hand on her shoulder. Catra stares at the door as Glimmer pauses, eying the door.

“If that’s her lab, I need to have a look at it, but neither of you have to go in,” Glimmer says. Catra shakes her head, stepping forward to grab the handle.

“It’s the only good part of this entire place. The lab is down the hall, the dark oak door. We’re not going in there,” Catra tells her, turning the knob and swinging the door open to reveal their old bedroom. It isn’t even a bedroom, really. Shadow Weaver had a fully decorated and furnished bedroom on the second floor for Adora, but she would only earn it once she mastered her magic. Once that looked increasingly unlikely, Shadow Weaver tried to _give_ it to her just to separate them, but Adora insisted on staying down in the old half-room, most likely intended to be a home office rather than _living space_.

This room, like “Adora’s” bedroom upstairs, is covered in dust, a stark contrast to the rest of the house. It doesn’t look exactly as they left it – most of their things are gone, and Shadow Weaver clearly came through here in a rage. The bed has been trashed, and the drow appears to have bashed a hole in the wall. The dresser’s drawers are pulled out too, one off its tracks completely, but Adora might have done that in her hurry to grab her things on her birthday.

“I’m going to check the lab,” Glimmer says softly, from somewhere over her shoulder, but Catra isn’t listening as she drifts into the room, her chest hammering with memories, dozens of them rushing beneath her surface. Adora follows her inside, a warm presence at her back until Catra reaches the bed and turns, sitting cautiously on its tattered edge.

Adora gazes down at her, tension in her face, but despite having her own memories to grapple with, she is clearly worried about Catra. Catra bites her lip, patting the bed beside her. Adora follows the instruction, sitting down at her side. For a moment, they both stare straight ahead at the aging shiplap walls and open doorway. Catra can hear Glimmer down the hall, descending the steps into the basement, but aside from that the house is lifeless, not even a shadow stirring to create movement.

Adora cautiously raises her arms, turning to Catra and wrapping her up in an embrace, holding her in the remains of the bed they used to share. They have held each other in this collapsed twin bed many times, comforting each other after an injury, or reprimand, or a draining session that took too much. It is so damn familiar, Catra begins to cry just from the echoing emotions. Within seconds, Adora is joining her.

\--

The house was abandoned in a hurry. The fact that _everything_ was left behind was evidence enough, but apparently the lab was left in the middle of a ritual, some hard-to-obtain magical implements and tomes left behind. Catra wouldn’t be surprised if Shadow Weaver fled the second her wisp was caught, expecting the home visit. Glimmer doesn’t mention the tear trails on their faces when she finds them to report on the lab, and they all drive back to the coven Nexus to report in to Angella on what they – _didn’t_ – find.

“We have identified who Hordak is,” Angella tells them after they explain the state of the house. It is the only progress the investigation has made, short of clearing the other necromancers. _Knowing_ it is Shadow Weaver doesn’t help them find her, or figure out where she found enough power to raise so many people.

“He used to be a Silver Raider,” Angella elaborates, and Catra does a fucking double-take along with Glimmer, both of them gaping at the woman incredulously. Angella raises a brow in response. Adora, for her part, just looks _confused_ from where she is sat on the floor, cross-legged and leaning back against Catra’s legs dangling off the armchair.

“Many people were drawn in by the leader’s rhetoric. He got away with naming himself _Prime_ in a _rebirthing_ ceremony. It takes a captive audience to buy that kind of bullshit,” Castaspella points out. Angella turns, slowly, and levels her with a glare that she has the grace to look admonished by. Catra raises her eyebrow at the routine. Yes, Angella’s daughter is present, but she is also _twenty-two_ , and Catra has already heard her curse like a sailor.

“Hordak was bitten during a raid. Considering his history, the folk community wasn’t eager to welcome him after the cult cast him out. He had to make his own way. He drops off the grid for months at a time, but for the last several years he has been running the fights. The authorities are involved now and trying to hunt him down, but he went underground after the match,” Angella explains. Catra’s heart sinks as she slumps in her chair.

She isn’t afraid- or at least, she shouldn’t be. She knows she can take Hordak in a fight – she _has_ before. She knows she can take his fighters, too. Shadow Weaver is a greater threat if she has a new power source, but Catra probably could have taken her as a kid and she definitely can now, especially with Adora by her side. Despite knowing all these things logically, she is shivering a little in her seat.

“We’ll chase him and Shadow Weaver down. The authorities are involved and hunting them, but the coven is most likely to be successful in tracking down magic. Any insight you can give us on the two of them will help, but this is not your duty,” Angella adds, her eyes soft as she watches Catra’s reaction. Catra forces herself not to hiss. She wants to. She wants to lash out and show she isn’t weak, but that isn’t how things work out here in the world. She lets out a slow, shaking breath.

“What do you want to know?” she asks.

\--

Life falls into a pattern, if a tense one. The books and articles Glimmer collected for Adora arrive later in the week, and Adora spends her free time reading, especially when Catra is at work, trying to do _meditation exercises_ and similar doomed undertakings. Adora doesn’t have the patience for anything like that and they both know it. Still, learning theory about both werewolves and magic beyond necromancy seems to help. Adora’s eyes flare, and she even shifts at times, but the longest she gets stuck is a day.

Things settle even beyond Adora’s shifting. Emily and Darla settle with each other and soon Catra is getting videos of the two spirits _playing_ together, Scorpia’s tea shop is doing well again now she isn’t losing business to broken equipment, and Melog takes full advantage of Catra’s guilt over chasing them out of the bed to get absolutely _spoiled_.

Nearly two weeks after the full moon, Catra is laying on the floor on her living room, curled in a warm spot with Melog, when she gets roused from her dozing by Adora groaning in frustration and chucking her book aside. Catra watches the fit with amusement, raising an eyebrow at Adora when she catches Catra watching her outburst and immediately flushes.

“I hate meditating. I hate books, and reading, and sitting still, and _clearing my mind_. I want to hunt a boar at this point,” Adora complains, a mix of petulant and _embarrassed_. Adora really has been getting a hell of a lot better with her shifting, but last night she admitted that sometimes when she shifts, she kind of _wants_ it, wanting to run and play. This admittance was followed by her tackling Melog while human. She rolled over and complained it wasn’t the _same_ with the most ridiculous pout on her face.

Catra pauses, glancing out the back door. It is well before sundown – they settled into their current positions just after their afternoon breakfast – and there is plenty of time left in the day before Catra has to go to work.

“Do you want to shift, Adora? Balance means accepting both halves,” Catra says, internally cringing at the self-help bullshit she is parroting from one of Glimmer’s articles, but it feels like it needs to be said. Adora blows out a long gust of air, staring at the ceiling and thinking. After a moment, she nods her head.

“I’ll try to be back by the time you get home tonight. I was going to wait until you left so we didn’t miss any time together,” Adora admits, fidgeting with her shirt. Catra rolls her eyes, lolling her head back to relax against Melog again.

“We’re still spending time together. If you come up with a good quip, I’m sure the urge to annoy me will allow you to shift back,” Catra assures her, but she is smiling as she says it. Adora laughs, the sound shifting around the room as she sits up on the sofa and her feet drop to the floor. Catra expects the sound to be followed by a flash of light in the middle of the room – she may have finally bought a bedframe, but she knows better than to buy a coffee table given the frequent location of Adora’s shifts – but instead she blinks her eyes open in surprise as Adora crawls over her, still human, with a mischievous expression on her face.

“If you are planning me to lick me as a dog, you _are_ sleeping on the couch tonight,” Catra warns, not totally sure why Adora is bracing above her. Adora rolls her eyes, bending down to nip at the edge of Catra’s jaw.

“Come into the woods with me. I wanna show you something,” Adora asks, nudging down to nip at her neck now too. Catra tilts her head back, considering it. She still has never been in the woods outside of the Moon Ritual. This time of the month, in broad daylight, there shouldn’t be anything particularly threatening there, at least not from a supernatural perspective. Regardless, she is now confident that Adora knows how to defend herself if necessary.

“Okay, but I’m not getting _dirty_ , and if you lead me to anywhere with burrs, I will never forgive you,” Catra decides. Adora beams down at her.

\--

Melog follows them, curious. Catra doesn’t know _why_ they are curious, seeing as they know where Adora is leading her but are refusing to share and ruin the surprise. Adora leads them down old animal tracks in the undergrowth, some of them laden with impressions of paws, claws, or hooves. The barren tracks keep the plant life from grabbing at Catra’s legs and tail too much. It isn’t a far hike – maybe half an hour – before they reach a clearing and Catra realizes what Adora wanted to show her.

The shrine has an inherent power to it, a buzz of magic even Catra can detect in the air. Light magic, probably, given that her fur isn’t standing on end. There clearly used to be stone arches leading up to the main structure, but they have since collapsed. Carvings of wolves, the moon, and intricate swirls Catra just _understands_ to represent magic decorate the stubs of the columns left behind, half-grown over by vines and moss.

A shrine is raised on a stone dais at the far end of the ruin, walled on three sides with columns allowing entry on the side facing them. A frieze depicting humans running towards a moon and wolves running on past it is still intact above the columns, the pitched stone roof laden with swinging vines, but none seem to dare to hang down over the shrine entrance.

There can’t be that many shrines dedicated to werewolves in the Whispering Woods.

“This was your den?” Catra asks, softly, as Adora guides them through the rubble to the standing shrine. Adora lets out a low bark of confirmation, and an image dances in Catra’s mind. It is full-colour – from Melog’s memories – and shows a dejected Adora resting amongst the rubble of the shrine, watching her approaching visitor with interest, a lonely howl still echoing through the woods.

Catra reaches down and pets the top of Melog’s head, silently thanking them as Adora leads her up the shallow steps and into the shrine proper. There is a pedestal at the center of the room, and Adora pads forward and then plops down on the ground, curling around the pedestal and looking to Catra with bright eyes. She is showing Catra how she used to live and sleep.

Catra’s breath is shallow, and she tells herself it is just because of the strong magical presence of the shrine, energy pouring off the carved pedestal. Catra understands why Adora was drawn here – the power is both comforting and oppressive to her, but she is not a creature made from light magic. She shudders a little in the stone room and Adora quickly stands, padding closer and nudging at her hip.

“I’m okay. It’s just a lot of magic. Reminds me of-“ Catra cuts off mid-assurance, staring down at the pedestal. Adora whines, curling around her, clearly concerned. Catra’s hands are shaking a little, but she reaches down to pull her phone out of her pocket.

 _No service_. Of course when she has a breakthrough she can’t get ahold of Glimmer to tell her.

“We need to get back to the house,” Catra decides, reaching down to pet Adora. “I might have an idea how to find Shadow Weaver,” she adds, and watches her girlfriend’s ears pin back.

\--

“ _What do you mean you were graverobbers_?” Glimmer hisses, a demand ladened with shock. Catra rolls her eyes as she stares out into her yard, watching Adora and Melog wrestle, but her eyes are glazed over and unseeing.

“Where do you think Shadow Weaver got her corpses from? Walmart? The cemetery had been abandoned for years, but it was a nexus for dark energies. I’ll bet she has been supplementing her power by performing the rituals there,” Catra shoots back. Glimmer is quiet for a long moment. “What, is this _worse_ than what you already know about me?” Catra questions, a bit too testy, but _come on_.

“Kind of? That was an accident. This was purposefully disturbing the dead,” Glimmer returns. Catra scowls and then hisses in pain when her tail smacks down hard on her concrete porch, lashing from irritation.

“I didn’t have a fucking _choice_ , Glimmer. Neither did Adora. We did this, or we got the fucking lightning, or maybe drained to _death_. Will you check it out with me or not? I will be able to tell you if her magic signature is there,” Catra growls out. There is a moment of silence on the other end of the line before Glimmer lets out a somewhat apologetic sigh.

“Tomorrow night. We only went to the mansion without Angella because we were fairly confident she had already left, but if you think there is a chance she could be there, I want to wait until my mom is available to come too,” Glimmer agrees. Catra blows out a long breath and nods, despite how Glimmer can’t see her.

“I have work tonight anyway. I’ll text you the instructions to get there,” Catra returns. In the background, Adora _boofs_ as Melog tackles her. Catra snorts, breathing a bit easier now there is a _plan_ at least. She hates sitting idle, just hoping the coven will find Hordak or Shadow Weaver’s trail.

Glimmer gently prompts her, asking about Adora’s shifting. It is an apology, in a way, for jumping to conclusions. She is offering Catra a distraction, one she happily takes as she updates Glimmer on how well Adora has been doing in the last few days since they talked. It helps take her mind off what they will do tomorrow.

\--

Shadow Weaver had a hearse, because she had to be a fucking stereotype. Catra parks her car at the trailhead with a sense of relief flooding through her upon seeing the parking lot empty. They are early. Catra’s hands were shaking while they waited around in the living room and she just couldn’t take the anxiety anymore. Adora comes around the side of the car, wrapping Catra in her arms and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. It is cold enough for their breath to be visible in the evening air, but Catra gladly leans into Adora’s embrace for reasons that have nothing to do with the temperature.

Glimmer arrives in her SUV, Angella riding alongside her with an unseasonably grim expression. Catra can’t really blame her. Even though they are alone, visiting a graveyard looking for traces of necromancy isn’t _fun_. Adora waves half-heartedly when Glimmer and Angella get out of the car and approach.

“The trailhead is right over there. It’s a short hike,” Catra tells them, waving towards the path deeper into the woods. This is – or rather, _was_ – a folk cemetery, before the Silver Raids put this part of the Woods under _disputed control_ and it was abandoned. Cemeteries only have a limited occupancy anyway, and no one ever returned here after the Raids were finally put to an end.

“We know. We’ve been here before,” Glimmer returns, her usually cheerful – or at least _violent_ – expression subdued. Catra pauses, processing the implications of that, and then nods, pushing off the side of her car to start forward up the path.

They don’t speak a lot on the hike. Glimmer asks Adora a bit about her shifting despite there being no new developments with it in the last twenty-four hours, but it is different to hear it from Adora herself. Adora seems glad to have the distraction, chattering as they go, though she keeps her voice low. There is a somber air about their party, but surprisingly, there isn’t an oppressive atmosphere around them.

“Something is wrong. The magic is usually strong enough for my fur to start bristling in the _parking lot_ ,” Catra says as the gates come into sight up ahead. Adora heaves a sigh that almost sounds relieved.

“I thought it was just me. The well of power that used to be here – it’s gone, right? There is still energy, but nothing like before,” Adora asks her, glancing between Glimmer and Catra. Catra nods, uneasy, as Glimmer exchanges a look with Angella. Angella is frowning, looking up ahead.

“Wells of power cannot just be _removed_. They tend to appear in graveyards thanks to the lifeforce released from the bodies. It should take several decades from the last internment for the well to stop gathering energy, much less dissipate to release it into the world at large. It hasn’t been long enough,” Angella tells them. Catra’s hackles twitch. Whatever _should_ have happened, Catra knew this place just a few years ago, and it didn’t feel like this.

They are silent as they continue on to the gate. Catra doesn’t hesitate to leap once they reach it, scaling it easily and dropping down on the other side. She turns to unlock it from the inside, rolling her eyes at Glimmer and Angella’s twin expressions of surprise. Adora hasn’t even noticed their reactions, already peering through the wrought iron to look deeper into the yard.

“Shadow Weaver had a key, but she liked to _make_ me unlock it. Now come on. Shadow Weaver has definitely done _something_ here,” Catra explains as she swings the gate open. Cautiously, her companions enter the cemetery with her.

\--

Shadow Weaver liked the corpses from near the back of the cemetery. It was where the magic was strongest, she claimed. The bodies being imbued with magic from their surroundings made it easier to reanimate them. Now, the back of the cemetery feels as lifeless as the rest of it. Catra reluctantly points to graves she knows are now empty, a radiating circle of them around the marble tomb in the center of the hill at the back of the lot.

Glimmer approaches the tomb, placing a hand lightly on the cool marble with a blank expression on her face.

“That’s where it used to be strongest. Shadow Weaver said the crystal acted as an attachment point for the magic,” Adora adds, quietly. They have largely been whispering. Speaking at full volume feels wrong, disturbing the dead long laid to rest amongst the trees. Glimmer nods, a bit numbly, staring at the tomb door.

“Crystal structures often act as conduit points for magic,” she parrots, her voice a bit empty. Angella approaches her, placing a comforting hand lightly on Glimmer’s shoulder. They both smell of grief, more than just the lingering traces of it in the ground here, death and sorrow an inherent part of this land. They know someone here, clearly, but Catra is still shocked when Angella reaches into her pocket and produces a small key.

Catra isn’t sure if she should look away or not as Glimmer draws in a sharp breath, stepping back so Angella can insert the key and open the tomb. It doesn’t end up mattering – when she swings open the door, it is pitch black inside, but Catra’s eyes can detect that there is nothing on the pedestal inside, not a coffin or even an urn.

\--

Angella has to put out the fire before the trees can truly catch alight. Glimmer barely contains herself from throwing another fireball into the void. Catra and Adora just watch, both helpless in the face of this rage-filled grief. Catra is familiar with it, she felt it for years, but she can do nothing to contain the crying sorceress. Her mother is crying too, but at least her tears are silent and she isn’t casting dark magic to cope.

There was never a well of power – just the body of one very powerful sorcerer, his magic slowly pouring out as time passed from his death. And now that body is gone, stolen. If Shadow Weaver couldn’t have a living power source, she could have a dead one. She could take a body and not to puppeteer, but to use, drain, and defile its _essence_ until she had what she wanted. Catra and Adora both hold each other, breathing deeply as Glimmer’s wails of grief shake the forest.

“He was my husband. I know him, his magic and his essence, like no other. I can find him. Now I know what to look for, I can find the echoes of it and follow it back to the source. She can run anywhere, _hide him_ anywhere, but magic radiates power, and I will find her,” Angella vows, holding Glimmer in against her chest, her expression darkened with anger and grief.

It is a death threat if Catra has ever heard one.

\--

Catra showers when they get home. She used to shower until the water ran icy after they would dig up corpses for Shadow Weaver. She could still smell the death and decay on her no matter what she did, washing and washing until she could at least logically say it was in her head, despite the scent still lingering. When she could get away with it, Adora would join her, keeping Catra from scrubbing too roughly, creating small nicks with claws she couldn’t sheathe in her anxiety, or just rubbing herself raw until she ended up with hot spots.

She can smell death on her fur now, but Adora slips in with her and tangles their hands together, holding Catra back as the water runs down her body.

“I just fucking hate her, Adora. I thought she was gone from our lives, but she keeps finding new fucked up shit to do,” Catra whispers into Adora’s shoulder, the water pouring down them both. Adora nods, bending her head to press a kiss to Catra’s ear despite how her fur is wet.

“I know. But Angella says she can track Micah’s magic, now she knows to look for it. They’ll find and arrest her. She won’t be able to hurt anybody anymore. Not even us,” Adora promises. She sounds a little wistful, like she doesn’t quite believe it herself, but she _wants_ to. Catra swallows, pressing a little closer into Adora.

“I think she is always going to hurt us,” she returns, so quiet she can barely hear it herself over the shower. Adora lets out a slow breath, tightening her grip on Catra.

“I don’t think she will. I think one day even her memories won’t hurt like they do now,” Adora promises her, quietly. Catra tucks her face into Adora’s neck. It sounds nice, but right now she can’t believe it.

\--

Catra has a nightmare that night of being back in Shadow Weaver’s mansion. She is dying again, drained too far, used up and discarded. Adora keeps healing her, keeps desperately begging for Shadow Weaver _leave her alone_ , but every time Catra recovers, Shadow Weaver drains her again. There is never enough power for her, and Catra’s life has never been a price she wasn’t willing to pay.

Catra wakes up gasping, tears wet on her face. Adora pulls her tightly into her arms, pressing soft kisses to her hair and murmuring assurances.

“I’m right here. You’re safe. It’s okay,” Adora promises her as Melog presses in at her back. Images of the forest flood her mind. Catra shivers a little in Adora’s arms.

“Can you take me outside? To the backyard. I need the air,” Catra asks, quietly. Adora nods immediately, her face setting with determination. It is a bit of an endeavor. First Adora has to go get her coat, and then she wraps Catra up in the blanket to protect her from the winter chill. Adora carries her out to the backyard, getting help from Melog opening doors. All of Catra’s limbs are contained in the bundle. They settle on the porch, Adora’s back leaned against the living room windows and Catra bundled tightly in her arms, the blanket tucked up over her ears like a hood against the cold.

The air still stings on her exposed face, but Catra purrs as she nuzzles into Adora’s warmth and breathes in the cold air. The scents of the forest carry into her yard, and it makes it easier to focus on the images Melog pushes in her direction.

“I love you,” Adora promises, pressing a burning kiss against the cold fur on Catra’s forehead. Catra nuzzles back, still purring.

“I love you too,” she breathes in response.

\--

Despite swearing she will hunt Shadow Weaver down, it takes _time_ to sift through all the magic signatures in Bright Moon to seek out the perverted and misused one Angella knows. This gap doesn’t feel like a stand-still, however. Angella is confident she can do it, so all Catra can do is wait and take care of Adora as best she can.

Adora wakes as a wolf sometimes, or feels a shift coming on during the day, but for the most part she can channel it, giving in for a few hours before she returns to her human form. After a rough night at the bar, Catra falls asleep with a wolf and wakes at midday with girlfriend draped over her, facedown in her tits. Actually, Catra _wishes_ Adora was in her tits. No, Adora is snuggling into the fluff between them, over her heart.

“You’re gay,” is how Catra chooses to greet her girlfriend, yawning widely as Adora snorts and rubs her cheek against the spot.

“Soft kitty,” she returns, grinning when Catra blushes and narrows her eyes down at her. Catra reaches down to shove at Adora’s face, intending to shove it down where she _wants_ it, but Adora snatches her hand out of the air with a mischievous grin. Adora guides her hand up, and Catra realizes a moment too late that she is pinning her hand above her head.

“Pink,” she says without thinking about it. Adora freezes, blinking down at her in surprise, but quickly gathers herself and releases Catra’s wrist. Catra flushes as she pulls her hands back down, cautiously wrapping it around Adora’s back. “I’m not in a bottom mood,” she offers, and hopes Adora can read between the lines. She can’t be vulnerable like that right now, not with all the uncertainty in their lives right now.

“Okay,” Adora says, softly, her gaze accepting as she moves to instead cup Catra’s face, “Do you want to stop?” she asks, despite how they haven’t even _started_ yet. Catra pauses, running her hand on Adora’s back up and down as she considers it. She tends to jump Adora after she shifts back. Just to make sure she stays human, of course. This morning, Catra is just generally anxious. She couldn’t be pinned down, but that doesn’t mean she wants to stop.

“No, I just want to be in control. Would the collar be okay? I just- need to feel solid in something,” Catra asks. Adora actually _twitches_ beneath her hands, drawing in a sharp breath. Catra gently massages her shoulders, waiting for her to respond with a small, satisfied purr in her chest. It takes Adora a few moments, swallowing as she finds her words.

“Yeah, that’s okay,” she agrees, a flush already rising on her cheeks. They have used the collar a few times, but now Adora knows what she is supposed to be _doing_ , she doesn’t really need it to keep her human – or at least, she doesn’t outside of the full moon. They will see in a few days if she needs it again, but for now Catra isn’t worried about the collar _losing its power_.

“Hmm, good, because I have a surprise for you,” Catra purrs in response, taking great joy in how Adora’s eyes dilate in response.

\--

Maybe Catra understands a bit more now how Adora being praised kept her human. Catra feels steady, sure and confident, with Adora facedown on the mattress beneath her, whimpering and shifting her knees where they prop her ass in the air so Catra can drive into her with the strap. She has the collar on, Catra tugging on the leash occasionally, but this is mostly about _having_ her.

“Such a good puppy for me, aren’t you? You like it when I fuck you like this?” Catra asks, a bit breathlessly, groaning a little when Adora moans in response and eagerly nods against the sheets.

“ _Ah_ – feels so good,” she manages to pant out. Catra growls, a possessive heat flaring between her legs as she shoves up roughly with the next thrust. Adora turns her face into the sheets, clearly trying to stifle her answering moan, but considering she immediately has to turn back out to pant and keen, it doesn’t work so well.

“Let me hear you, Adora. Your sounds are so beautiful,” Catra corrects her, tugging on the leash and feeling a satisfied shiver run through her at the moan Adora answers her with. Adora pants and gasps with every thrust of the strap, clearly hungry for it, trembling from the effort of holding herself still and just _taking_ what Catra gives her.

Adora has been on the edge of coming for a while now, but Catra keeps drawing it out, slowing the thrust of her hips a little until she can’t take it anymore and needs to just _have_ her. Adora is on the edge again, whining and flushed, beads of sweat rolling down her back as she cries out softly.

“Do you want to come, Adora?” Catra asks, an adrenaline rush pouring through her when Adora moans and eagerly nods her head.

“ _Please_ ,” she gasps out. The last time Catra asked, she gave the same response, but Catra told her to wait and earned a desperate groan in response. “I’ve been good, please,” Adora adds, her hands fisted in the sheets as she shifts her hips back to meet Catra on the next thrust. Catra tugs on her leash and earns another strangled cry that shoots straight between her legs.

“You’ve been a good girl,” Catra agrees as she slides one hand around Adora’s front to finally touch her. “You can come for me, Adora,” Catra decides, drawing in a sharp breath when Adora immediately cries out her name in response.

“ _Thank you_ ,” Adora manages. Catra growls, upping the speed of her thrusts and drinking in the desperate cries of Adora finally, finally coming. The buildup clearly makes it more intense – Adora is loud as she trembles beneath Catra, eventually going a bit limp. Catra is forced to drop the leash to grab Adora’s hips, holding her up so she can pull out of her slow.

“Good girl,” she praises as Adora collapses down in the sheets, twitching and gasping. Catra undoes the buckles of the strap with one hand, petting down Adora’s back with the other to soothe her. “You were so good, Adora. I love seeing you come like that,” she adds on as she finally gets the strap off, both hands leaving Adora for a moment so she can discard it. She quickly crawls up over her girlfriend, draping across her back and purring softly to her.

“How do you feel?” Catra prompts, softly. Adora just gives a soft moan, limp beneath her. She is still too blissed out to answer, so Catra drops her head to rest between Adora’s shoulder blade, content to listen to her heart while she waits for her girlfriend to come back to herself. After a few moments Adora stirs, seems to realize Catra is draped across her, and promptly goes limp.

“You aren’t allowed to move,” Adora mumbles, rubbing her face into the sheets, wicking away the drying sweat gathered across her skin. Catra snorts, marking Adora’s shoulders with her cheek before she leans up to purr in her ear.

“Allowed, huh? I’m not the one wearing the collar right now,” Catra reminds, earning a slight shiver from her girlfriend. Catra smiles to herself as she drags her hands up to the back of Adora’s neck. “Lift your head. I need to take it off,” Catra orders. Adora gives a small whine of protest, but she follows orders, letting Catra remove the collar and press soft kisses against her neck where it once was.

“Good girl. You did so well for me, darling. Rest now,” Catra tells her. Adora seems all too happy to go limp beneath her again, letting Catra’s hands run along her.

\--

Catra is at the bar when she gets the text. She doesn’t see it until she gets off work.

“The _day_ before the full moon? Are you fucking insane?” Catra hisses, looking up to see the waxing gibbous moon setting in the early morning sky as she drives.

“We found her. You expect me to wait another week while her magic wanes when she has my fucking father? We’re going after her. The authorities have a strike team. We’re just asking you to come to advise us on her magic,” Glimmer returns, tension high in her voice. Catra growls, but she can’t _argue_ with that. As much as she never wants to see Shadow Weaver again, they can’t just leave her there now they have found her.

“Hordak?” Catra asks, her voice a growl as she clutches the steering wheel. Glimmer lets out an aggressive sound, but Catra doubts it is directed at her.

“Not with her, but there’s a lead on his blood supply. Think she would be willing to flip on him if we catch her?” Glimmer asks. Catra snorts, derisively.

“The bitch doesn’t care about anyone. She would sell out her right arm if it gave the rest of her an advantage,” Catra returns, bitterly. Glimmer laughs, derisive and a bit cruel.

“ _Good_.”

\--

Adora has managed not to shift, but her irises are beaming as she eyes the rotting old house Shadow Weaver is – once again – squatting in. This place is even worse than the mansion. At least it is only one sprawling story so they likely won’t _fall through the floor_ or anything.

A small crowd is gathered outside the abandoned estate gates. Officers, led by an elf named Juliet, all coordinating with a stony-faced Angella. Glimmer stands at her mother’s elbow, gaze firmly fixed on the old house’s front door.

“She knows we’re here. She has magic landmines placed on the driveway,” Adora says, quietly, in lieu of greeting when they walk up to the small gathered crowd. Juliet’s eye twitches and she turns to bark something at her security team in elvish. Almost none of them _are_ elves, but they all nod and seem to prepare themselves.

“Anything else?” Juliet asks, turning back to Adora. Adora fidgets, looking down at Catra. Catra squeezes her hand, trying to offer the best silent support she can. She may know Shadow Weaver’s magic, but she isn’t magic _herself_ like Adora is, and she absorbed none of the theory of the years. Adora is the one best prepared to warn people. Adora swallows, looking over to the house.

“Zombies, I think. Too strong for husks, not enough for ghouls. The well of power is in the basement. I can’t pick out where Shadow Weaver is – the other magic is too strong. I can’t tell if there are traps closer to the house either,” Adora says. Catra turns her head to watch the windows with her. Shadows and outlines are moving inside the halls. She shivers at the thought of _zombies_ , some of the most monstrous undead. Husks are empty and meaningless without orders. Ghouls are controlled and lifelike.

Zombies are _monsters._ They are what happens when someone doesn’t have the power or control to produce ghouls. They _eat flesh_ , they decay, they are a gross parody of life. Shadow Weaver always decried them before as a sign of failure in a sorceress, but apparently desperate times have pushed her to new lows.

This is going to be worse than Catra thought.

\--

There are zombies. There are traps leading all the way up to the house. Catra and Adora watch, huddled together and leaning against the side of Catra’s car as the team is forced to draw out the zombies to set off the traps. Catra realizes now why Shadow stooped to zombies – she needed _so many_ , she couldn’t have had the power or stamina to create full ghouls, and husks would not have been useful defenders. Zombies have the urge to kill, bloodthirsty and desperate.

“They’re missing some, aren’t they,” Catra asks quietly as she watches the strike team advance inches – occasionally feet – at a time. Adora nods wordlessly, her eyes beaming. Angella is hanging back on this side of the gate, occasionally casting dispel magic out towards the house, but her magical specialty is far from combat magic. Glimmer’s _is_ , but she is still confirming in it, and her mother is holding her back with a hand on her shoulder.

Adora flinches and whines when one of the magical landmines goes off too close to the strike team, an explosion of ice shards that sends them scrambling backwards. It clips nearly as many of them as it takes out zombies. Catra has her hands fisted at her sides, hating this fucking _horror movie_ she is being forced to watch. Adora nearly starts forward when another _pack_ of zombies comes spilling out the front door. Catra stops her with a hand on her arm, clutching at her.

“You need a plan, Adora,” she points out. Adora startles, looking down to her. Catra growls to herself, ears flattening as she doesn’t tear her eyes from the carnage of people’s loved ones who don’t _deserve_ this.

“ _Charging_ _in_ isn’t going to help,” Catra points out. Adora settles a little at her side, peering down at her with a questioning look.

“But if we take the well of power out of play, there will be nothing to fuel the corpses anymore. All of this will _stop_ ,” Adora points out. Catra chews on her lips, fucking _flinching_ when she sees a child amongst the undead. Adora has a point, but getting to Shadow Weaver is what they are _trying_ right now, and it isn’t working.

“We need Glimmer,” she decides.

\--

“Absolutely not,” Angella says.

“Shut up,” Catra snaps back, which seems to enrage and startle her in equal measure. Catra turns back to Glimmer. “Well? I’ll keep you safe,” Catra promises her. Angella seems to recover from her anger enough to speak again.

“A teleport drains _all her magic_. She will be completely defenseless. Shadow Weaver already has my husband. I am not letting her take my daughter too,” Angella snaps back. Catra doesn’t break eye contact with Glimmer. She can tell Glimmer is considering it. Catra already has her hand tightly laced with Adora’s. If Glimmer can draw the rune fast enough, they can teleport into the basement before Angella can stop them.

“I can do it. And Catra can protect you,” Adora adds, her voice quiet at Catra’s shoulders. Glimmer’s eyes spark and she is bending down, tracing a rune with her finger.

“ _No_ ,” Angella cries out, reaching to snatch Glimmer’s arm before she can activate the circle. Glimmer turns up to face her, glaring with tears in her eyes.

“ _I want to know my father_ ,” she returns, her voice broken with emotion as she yanks her arm out of her mother’s grip and _shoves_ the stunned woman backwards, out of the glowing ring. Before Angella can recover from her shock, Glimmer is slamming her hand down on the center of the rune, and the entire world fades away around them.

Catra lands in the basement with her claws out, all her fur bristling and a growl rising in her throat. Shadow Weaver turns away from the man’s body she has laid on a raised dais to face them, shock written across her face. At Catra’s side, Adora glows gold and _roars_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: I hate cliffhangers. Also me: Puts like four in the same fic.  
> For those without pets, hot spots are inflamed wounds found in dogs and cats. They tend to appear when moisture gets trapped around an existing cut – I have only ever had a pet develop them after grooming/bathes.


	14. Interlude V: Well of Power

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for violence and a touch of blood.

The room lacks many of the magical implements that Adora is used to from Shadow Weaver’s lab in the mansion, but the stench of death and decay, the crackle of electric magic, and the shelves along the wall laden with ritual ingredients and a few scattered tomes are all familiar.

A ritual circle is drawn in the center of the room, a stone dais in the center holding the perfectly-preserved and peaceful form of Micah. Having his remnant magic drawn from is affecting him – black lines like dark lightning are starting to creep up his arms – but his body has not begun to decay, his magic still strong enough to preserve him.

Adora still has a chance, as long as Catra can protect Glimmer, defenseless between her lack of magic and the shock of seeing her father’s body. Shadow Weaver startles when the crackle of magic signals their arrival, but when she turns it is with narrowed eyes. Adora grew up under her care – if Adora can recognize her magic, then Shadow Weaver can recognize hers as well. She has known Adora was here ever since they pulled up outside the property.

“ _Adora_. Still can’t use your magic on your own, I see,” Shadow Weaver greets, already raising her hand. The air crackles with electricity that Adora knows all-too-well. She hates that crackle – it is always followed by Catra’s screams. _Not anymore_. Instead of responding with words, Adora _roars_ , watching Shadow Weaver take a half-step back in shock as the glow overtakes her and she shifts.

The beast feels right here. The room is full of fear and panic to Adora, and it may not be pleasant to the wolf, but the wolf can channel its fear as rage. Adora leaps forward, charging the sorceress before she can launch her volley of lightning towards where Catra has gripped Glimmer’s arm and pulled her back to the steps down into the basement.

Upstairs still has a packs of zombies, but the stairwell is safely out of Shadow Weaver’s sight. Shadow Weaver sees Adora coming, tracing a quick circle and dissolving before Adora’s jaws can reach her. She reforms feet away, on the other side of the dais. With her deep well of power to draw from, she could keep teleporting away all day.

But only _with_ her well of power. Adora doesn’t intend to let her keep it. She bounds onto the dais, as if to leap over it and tackle the startled sorceress, but she digs her claws in and turns sharply to face the body lying upon it. _I’m sorry_ she offers it before she lunges down and sinks her teeth into the man’s lifeless forearm.

“You can’t drain his power,” Shadow Weaver _taunts_. The air is crackling with power around them both, Adora drawing her light out and Shadow Weaver forming lightning to blast her away.

“Unlike you, Adora doesn’t fucking _take_ ,” Catra jeers. Adora’s ears swivel in the direction of her pack leader, moving in quick darts around the lab now she has stowed Glimmer on the stairs. Adora listens to the sound of Catra making a tackle for Shadow Weaver that misses, but it doesn’t have to land. Catra just has to keep her dodging so she can’t draw enough power to hit either of them with lightning.

Adora closes her eyes and trusts Catra. The sounds of the fight dance around her – Catra leaping, clawing, and scratching at Shadow Weaver, the empty air, and the ground where she once stood. There is the tell-tale sizzle of Shadow Weaver’s teleport followed by the building crackle of lightning, but Adora ignores it, focusing on her own light and pushing aside her worry for Catra. She is Adora's leader because she knows how to lead a pack – how to provide and _fight_ for it.

The warmth and light fills her, just like it did before. Micah needs more than Lonnie did. Another already has her magical hooks deep within him, he has his own magic that is trying to fight Adora, and he is still _dead_ , further to go before he reaches lich status, but this is the only way. Shadow Weaver could keep teleporting, keep healing, keep throwing spells at them until the well of power ran dry, and this sorcerer is powerful enough Adora cannot see that on the horizon soon.

She pours her magic into him, focusing on Catra. Not on the Catra in the room, hissing and clawing, but on the idea of her, the pack leader Adora wants to please and has a need to defend. The best way she can help her now is healing Micah so he can wrestle his magic away from Shadow Weaver and leave her defenseless.

Blood is in her fangs. Blood is _flowing_ , a heartbeat pulsing through the arm beneath her. Adora whines, pouring more, more, _more_ of herself forward. Micah doesn’t have hours to wake up slowly. His body needs to heal _now_.

The form beneath her gasps for breath. Adora unclenches her jaw, withdrawing her teeth from the wound as it heals over. She keeps her bite light, not wanting to risk opening another wound, but she doesn’t think she needs one now to pour light into his bloodstream.

The body beneath her twitches. _Almost_. The black is retreating from his limbs, the lightning scars fading. In the background, Shadow Weaver howls with pain as Catra’s claws catch her before she can teleport away. _Ignore it_. She is so close – he is so close. His heart is pounding, his chest rising and falling as his organs wake.

 _Catra needs you awake. Glimmer does_ , is all Adora can think as her fur crackles with a golden glow. Micah gasps, his eyes flying open as Adora drops his arm and scrambles backwards. Shadow Weaver screams as her teleport fails and Catra’s claws rake down her face.

“ _Dad!”_ Glimmer yells from the steps into the basement. Micah turns towards the call, unseeing and reaching in her direction with shaking arms. “I’ll come to you, just _fight her_ ,” Glimmer calls, tears and desperation in her voice.

He needs to recover, but Adora has healed him and Shadow Weaver will struggle to drain him now. Adora can turn her attention onto Shadow Weaver. The necromancer is flung backwards against the wall, blood dripping down her face and arms. Adora opens her jaws, intending to leap forward-

Micah’s hand flies out, and a ball of energy hurtles across the room, hitting Shadow Weaver in the chest. It absorbs into her chest, causing her to collapse with a _death rattle_ of a final breath. Her wounds cease bleeding, her heart stops beating, and her lungs don’t draw in air – she is locked in stasis as, on the dais, Micah collapses back and goes limp with unconsciousness.

\--

Catra is leaned into her side, trembling as they watch Angella hunch over her husband’s spent body, brushing hair out of his face and whispering _it is alright, darling, you will be alright_. Adora did her best to pour her light out and revive him, but liches can take _years_ to awaken after the initial spell. Micah doesn’t need that, but it will be a few hours before he wakes for real this time, his higher functions returning to him beyond the instinct to defend his daughter’s voice.

How he knew it after two decades, Adora doesn’t know. Maybe it is just part of being a parent. She watches on as Glimmer tucks into Angella’s side, crying and grasping her father’s hand. Adora really can’t do more for them now, but she holds still regardless, supporting her trembling girlfriend if nothing else.

Now the adrenaline has faded, the fear and shock are making Catra shake, her face tucked into Adora’s side as she breathes her in. Catra smells of salt, antiseptic, and lingering traces of blood. Once the zombies fell inanimate, the assault team was able to usher inside, and their waiting medic cleaned Shadow Weaver’s blood from Catra’s claws, but the scent traces are still there.

“You’re here,” Catra whispers into her shoulder. Adora turns her head, draping it over Catra’s back and licking the back of her hair. Catra manages a small, broken giggle. “You’re okay,” she adds, actually nudging up into the affection.

Adora sets to licking her ears until they are turned inside out. Catra hates it, but it makes her laugh, so she allows it if only for the distraction as the strike team removes Shadow Weaver’s limp form, still in stasis, from the basement.

\--

“Thank you,” Angella says, quiet and gentle, as she watches the medical team load her husband into the back of the ambulance. Adora wags her tail and pants. She didn’t do all that much – she just shared her light with him – but Glimmer still hasn’t stopped crying, so it seems appropriate to just accept it. She turns her head, nudging it at Catra’s arm, and then looks back to Angella. Angella draws in a breath, but she turns to face Catra.

“Thank you for your plan. Thank you for not listening to me, and for keeping my daughter safe. She is my life, he _was_ , and I owe all of that to both of you,” she says. Catra’s eyes go wide, her cheeks flushing and ears twitching. She is shocked to be thanked, uncomfortable being the center of attention this way, so she just silently nods. Angella is still looking sincerely down at her. It seems to be too much for her to take.

“Glimmer helped Micah wake up, too. She- can do more than you think,” Catra stutters out. Adora knows her. She will say it was to get attention off her – and it works, Angella turns to look down at her daughter with shining eyes – but there is sincerity in her, true sentiment that has Adora leaning into her and licking at her fingers, affection bursting in her chest.

Catra wrinkles her nose and tries to pull her hand away. Adora licks her shoulder instead. Catra doesn’t _like_ it, but she likes the affection, and she isn’t willing to break contact with Adora to run, so she allows it.

\--

The full moon won’t begin for a few hours more, but Adora isn’t shifting back, not after everything. They return home and Adora flops against the shower door, watching Catra wash away the blood and ambient smell of death clinging to her fur. Occasionally Catra’s hands tremble and Adora lets out the quietest noise she can, offering soft chuffs to remind Catra she isn’t alone.

Melog is curled up in the sink, shrunken down to fit. They are helping. Adora knows they are, grounding Catra and reminding her to turn out to see the two of them scattered around the room, there for her, there to _protect_ her if need be.

Catra emerges from the shower eventually, and Melog distracts her by batting at the sashaying towel as she dries off. Adora stands at her side, letting Catra lean against her and nuzzle into her fur between passes with the towel.

“You got dog drool inside my ears,” Catra tells her, but the thin veneer of annoyance hardly covers the fondness or exhaustion in her voice as Catra sags a little against her side.

Adora decides Catra can go to bed damp this one time and herds her towards the bed. Catra huffs and makes a half-hearted grab for her towel, but Melog agrees with Adora that it is bedtime. They snag the towel in their claws and drag it away, out of reach. Catra is too tired to fight them on it, going limp against Adora’s side and letting herself be nudged on stumbling feet into the bedroom.

Adora frames her on one side while Melog lays on her other, the two of them curling around their exhausted leader. Catra purrs a little, turning her face to bury it into Adora’s ruff.

“I love you,” she breathes, exhausted and spent.

Will Catra ever let her live down shifting just so she can say it back to her? Likely not, but for the moment, Catra just sighs happily as the glow overtakes Adora. Catra wraps Adora in her arms as Adora murmurs _I love you_ into her hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s almost over…. I’ll be going from this fic into my Area 51 AU (hear me out here, it’s just a kid Catradora fluff fic), although we have one more chapter before strange disease is done.


	15. 10. Laid to rest

Despite it being the full moon the next day, Adora doesn’t have to fight it. She wakes up tired and drained from giving so much to heal Micah. She spends most of the day out in the yard, laying on their garden lounger. Catra bought it after Adora had to sit on the ground to cuddle her outside following her nightmare.

“It feels like it's breathing life back into me,” Adora tells her, tightening her arms around Catra’s back. Catra is stretched out on top of Adora, soaking in the warmth of the sun while Adora basks in the magic of the moon. “Raising Micah right away just took too much. I need to recover. I don’t know if I could shift if I wanted to right now,” Adora admits, dropping a kiss into her hair. Catra purrs, rubbing her cheek against her girlfriend’s chest.

“Good. You can explain what the hell is going on at the ritual this time,” Catra returns. Adora laughs and, just to be a brat, blows air into her ear. Catra shrieks, flinging herself off Adora and flailing off the lounger unceremoniously. Adora cackles, apparently delighted with the reaction as she props herself up on her elbow and grins smugly down at Catra, splayed out in the grass and glaring at her.

“Comfy down there?” she asks. Catra narrows her eyes, pinning her ears back in self-defense against another attack.

“Come up with a better quip if you’re going to be an asshole,” she grumbles, standing and brushing herself off. Adora _pouts_ , reaching out for her with a hopeful expression. Catra growls a warning, but she lets herself be pulled back into Adora’s lap again.

Her girlfriend is an asshole, but there is nowhere she would rather be.

\--

Melog comes with them this time. Catra is shocked when they don’t slip away at sundown, but they project images of the lantern-laden path in her head and she knows what they want. Normally Melog returns to the forest on the full moon to enjoy the way it comes to life under the magic – it was their favourite day of every month until they found Catra, and they still enjoy it now – but they can also experience that by coming to the Moon Ritual.

Last time people eyed them and whispered about Adora’s collar. Now, as they take the short hike to the basin, people glance at Melog is surprise. It is kind of a comfort that even the supernatural community seems baffled by them. No one _gossips_ about Melog the way they did about Adora’s collar though, mostly just seeming to be surprised and confused by them. Adora smiles fondly at Catra as they walk hand-in-hand, Melog brushing against her other side.

“What?” Catra asks, no heat to it as her cheeks heat upon realizing Adora is watching her. Adora just smiles down at her, expression soft as she tugs on their intertwined hands.

“It’s romantic, isn’t it? All the lights at night, the warmth of the magic against the frost… I wanted to kiss you under the lights last time,” Adora says, and then promptly _tugs_ Catra into her arms and does just that as Catra squeaks in surprise. Melog complains about their public affection in the back of her mind, but Catra lets herself melt into Adora’s arms, her tail flicking happily as she purrs. They are near the edge of the wide path, not really blocking anyone, and one or two people _aww_ at the display, even if Catra is sure just as many are rolling their eyes.

When they pull apart, Catra’s cheeks are blazing - _just_ from the pinch of the frosty air, of course. Adora beams at her and Catra grumbles, tucking down into her scarf and pretending she isn’t purring. Adora clearly isn’t fooled, her face is still filled with blatant affection, but she tightens her arm around Catra’s waist and begins walking them forward again.

The air grows warmer as they approach the basin, Catra breathing deeply to warm her body from the inside out. Adora relaxes a bit against her side, her eyes softly shining.

“The magic helping?” Catra asks, softly. Adora blinks down at her, eyes flashing, and then nods, seeming a bit relieved.

“I was getting kinda tired from the walk. Feels better,” Adora tells her. Adora _never_ grows tired from physical activity anymore, which really goes to show how much healing Micah took out of her. It certainly took a lot longer than healing Lonnie had. Catra slips her arm around her girlfriend’s waist, squeezing and leaning into her side. She isn’t quite supporting her, but Adora is less tense as they crest the hill into the basin, passing through the barrier of magic into warmth.

Catra undoes her scarf as Adora leads them through the crowd, Melog trailing just behind them.

“Glimmer and Angella get here early and are part of the ceremonies, so they are usually near the altar. Glimmer has a whistle she does so I can find her,” Adora tells her as she leads them. Catra shoves her scarf in her coat pocket as she undoes the buttons, eying the crowd around them. It took a few moments, but now the crowd is _parting_ for them, sending glances and whispering _is that her_.

“Adora,” Catra says, a low warning that causes Adora to draw to a halt and instantly turn to her, eyes bright and inquisitive as she tilts her head. Adora notices her gaze darting around the crowd and looks up for once, noticing the people glancing at them. Some of them stare, some of them turn away, and some of them don’t seem to have gotten the memo to stare.

Now they are drawn to a halt, Catra can pick up the whispers. _That’s the one who healed Micah?_ Catra’s ears twitch as they swivel about the crowd. _Adora has managed to be human without the ritual! What progress_. Melog mews at her side. _I’ve never seen a creature like that. What are they?_

Apparently they are the center of attention for many reasons. Catra flushes a little, unsure of the attention, as she opens her coat the rest of the way and grabs Adora’s hand.

“Let’s just find Glimmer,” she decides.

\--

Glimmer isn’t hard to find, it turns out. She is near the altar, given a wide berth by the crowd that clearly _wants_ to approach her, but doesn’t dare as she chatters a million miles a minute to her father, apparently a captive audience from how he is settled in a wheelchair, Glimmer holding its handles but not pushing him anywhere. Catra shifts her weight awkwardly, unsure if they should hang back as well, but Angella spots them from where she is standing a few feet away and beckons them forward. Glimmer lights up a little when she spots them, beaming as they approach.

“Dad, this is Adora, and her girlfriend Catra,” Glimmer explains, gesturing to them broadly. To Catra’s surprise, Micah stands to greet them, shaking both their hands and chuckling when he registers Catra’s surprise.

“I only woke up again a few hours ago, and my wife is worried about both overexertion and letting me out of her sight. This is the compromise we came up with,” he explains. His voice is warm, the corner of his eyes crinkling with his smile, and Catra finds herself nodding mutely, not really sure what to do in the face of such warmth being directed at her by a stranger.

Well, maybe not a complete stranger. Micah’s eyes fall on Adora again, his expression warm but pained.

“Thank you for your help. I can’t say becoming a lich was in my plans, but if it gives me the chance to be with my daughter… that is all I could ever ask for. I’ve lost a lot of time. Thank you for saving me,” he tells her, conviction and gratitude dripping from every pore. Catra is distinctly aware of the entire crowd gathered around them watching intently, but apparently the rumours of what Adora did have already spread, so there isn’t much to be done at this point. Adora flushes – Catra knows her tail would be wagging if she was a wolf right now – and she nods, giving an awkward half-bow.

“You know, happy to- help. Anytime. Well, no, I don’t think I could do that again for a _while_ , it really drained me-“ Adora starts to ramble, rubbing at the back of her neck.

“ _Adora_ ,” Catra cuts in, gently, squeezing her girlfriend’s arm. Adora draws to a halt, her cheeks puffing up for a moment with the effort to be silent. Micah just looks amused and vaguely endeared.

“You’re welcome,” Adora finishes, nodding once. Catra pats her arm, stretching up on her toes to kiss Adora’s cheek.

\--

No one is surprised when Glimmer declares there is a new lich in the coven during the ceremony, though she does make a joke about their lich quota being full. Now there isn’t a necromancer on the loose, that is probably accurate. Adora whispers in her ear _oh good, I was feeling tapped out_. Catra snorts and nuzzles into her as the ritual moves on.

“I feel I should also introduce Adora properly, as most of you have become familiar with her anyway,” Glimmer says, and Catra immediately freezes in Adora’s arms, flushing as all eyes turn on them. Glimmer smirks a little upon seeing Catra’s caught expression. She was in the _middle_ of scent-marking her neck.

“Adora is a direwolf, and we have her to thank for easing our liches’ transitions. Many of you have met her as a wolf over the last few years, but I am proud to announce she has found what was blocking her shifting, so you should be seeing more of her human form from now on,” Glimmer announces, to a small smattering of applause, especially from the werewolves Adora was chatting with after they slipped away from the center of attention and before the ritual began.

Glimmer thankfully moves on after that. Catra unfreezes from her position in Adora’s arms, turning to bury her face in her neck and ignore every whisper of Adora’s name she hears. When another one of Angella’s lightshows that Catra doesn’t give a _shit_ about begins, Catra nips at the side of Adora’s neck and stretches up on her toes to whisper in Adora’s ear.

“You know they’re all looking, Adora, but you’re _mine_ ,” she reminds, mostly because she is embarrassed about being caught cuddling in public. In the anonymity of the crowd, when everyone is focused on the ritual circle, it feels allowed, but Catra doesn’t want that many people _looking_. Adora hums happily in response, pressing a kiss to the base of her ear, and _whispering in it_ while she’s there.

“Yours. You can show me when we get home,” Adora promises her. Catra’s face is suddenly very hot as Melog’s nose wrinkles in disgust.

\--

“Wipe that smile off your face,” Catra pants out, wriggling beneath Adora’s hand. It is supposed to be _her turn_ , but Adora got handsy the moment they got in the front door, and Catra could barely get her to hold back long enough for Melog to get settled for the night on their blanket – which is on top of their pillow nest, which is on top of their memory foam bed. Catra is _spoiling_ them, alright, and they honestly deserve it for putting up with Adora pinning her to the wall in the entryway with her _mouth_.

Adora skates her hands down, dipping her fingers beneath Catra’s waistband in a _tease_ as she continues to grin down at her in the dim light of the bedroom. Catra got a nightlight just so Adora could stumble to bathroom at night without _breaking something_ , but Adora’s eyes are also bathing them in a subtle blue glow. Catra can see her smug smirk easily between the two light sources and her night vision.

“ _Adora_ ,” Catra admonishes as Adora slides her hand up to her hips, tracing her stripes there. Catra glares up at her satisfied girlfriend, her tail lashing beneath her, but it is far from _irritation_. “Touch me or let me fuck you,” Catra growls, her hands fisted in the sheets from her frustration. She had been intending to _claim_ Adora ever since she offered back at the ritual, but she can’t say she isn’t enjoying this too.

Adora hums in response, her hands sweeping down again to tuck into the edge of Catra’s waistband. Catra’s shirt was discarded before they reached the bed, and she arches beneath Adora’s touch, eager to have her remaining clothes _off_. Adora pulls down Catra’s pants _slow_ , causing Catra to growl, especially when she realizes Adora _left her underwear on_.

“That’s it,” Catra declares, surging forward to claim Adora’s mouth with a biting kiss, her hands roaming down over her body. Adora has had this shirt since high school, but she _doesn’t now_ as Catra tears along its front with her claws, earning a shocked gasp from Adora as she shoves its tatters aside. The bra is new, and Catra has the decency to pull back from the kiss long enough to pull it off.

Adora’s eyes are darkened with lust, her skin flushed and lips _bitten_ from Catra’s onslaught. It is pretty much Catra’s favourite view of her.

“Feisty today, huh?” Adora asks her, voice rough, and before Catra can offer a rebuttal Adora leans back and pulls her own pants off, leaving Catra a little stunned by the sight of Adora naked before her. Adora’s hair has grown back from her impulsive shave and she doesn’t seem to mind it anymore. Catra is kind of glad – she loves the sight of Adora’s curls _damp_ just from kissing her.

Adora kneels above her, just Catra’s underwear between them, and pins her into the mattress with kisses and roaming hands. She is possessive, her hands hot and claiming where they grip her. Catra shudders under the contact, but Adora was right about _feisty_ , and she is far from going to take it lying down. Catra kisses her hot and hungry as she sweeps her hands down Adora’s body, squeezing and _appreciating_ every inch as she reaches it. Adora moans against her, trembling a little where she is propped above her.

It is a tremble Catra knows well, and it means one thing: _take her_. Catra has them flipped, Adora pinned with hands on her wrists and an insistent mouth on hers, before Adora can react. Adora gasps and whines in response, growling a little at the loss of control. Catra smirks against Adora’s mouth, smug in a victory that Adora did not just _give_.

Adora’s hands fall to her waist, lifting her up slightly, and then the next thing she knows Adora has propped up a thigh and is pulling her down against it, _flexing_. Catra whines against the sensation, rolling her hips down, a bit desperate to feel Adora’s warmth between her legs. In retaliation for Adora reducing her to a shivering mess with just her _thigh_ , Catra runs her hands up to palm Adora’s breasts, flicking her claw over a nipple. Adora cries out softly, and that is all the encouragement Catra needs to duck down and take one nipple in her mouth, laving harshly over it with her rough tongue.

The movement leaves Adora _gasping_ and crying out her name. The scent of Adora’s arousal is thick in the room. Catra can smell her own mixing with it too. She whines as she grinds down against her girlfriend, already feeling the heat building between her legs. Adora growls lowly, her hands flexing on Catra’s waist, grip rough and leaving her shivering as she sucks on Adora’s nipple, trying to give as good as she gets.

“You look so hot like this. I want to touch you. Can I?” Adora asks, her voice rough with her effort from holding back. Catra purrs, the vibrations running straight into Adora’s nipple and causing her to cry out softly beneath her. “ _Please_ , can I touch you?” she asks again, voice ragged and fingers bruising as she holds herself back until she gets consent. Catra releases Adora’s nipple, pulling back a little to grin down at her girlfriend.

“ _No_. Watch first. Then you can have what you want,” she tells her, gasping as Adora flexes her thigh and growls.

“I want to make you feel good. Take care of you,” Adora pants out, voice a little desperate even as her hands pull Catra roughly down on her thigh on the next roll of her hips, causing her to cry out. On the last full moon, Adora was a little rougher during sex, possessive and eager to please. It seems that is a running theme as she _begs_ to fuck Catra. Catra purrs, a bit of a growl to it as she rolls her hips forward, so close already. Having Adora begging for her like this is certainly helping.

“Patience, Adora. I’ll let you take care of me if you’re good first,” she promises her. Adora growls, but she drops her head back against the pillows, flexing her thigh and pulling Catra down against her, _helping_ even though she can’t touch like she wants to.

“So gorgeous. Already purring, you love it so much,” Adora mumbles, seemingly to herself, but it makes Catra trill as she grinds down and holds herself there, rubbing back and forth, the heat building until it overtakes her, flooding through her and making her go limp as she relaxes.

Adora reaches out to catch her. Catra purrs, letting herself relax as Adora repositions them. Adora turns onto her side, gently laying Catra back against the sheets as her chest rumbles. Catra sighs and nudges up into her touch, luxuriating in Adora’s hands petting down her sides.

“You can touch me, Adora,” Catra manages, through her purr. Adora descends on her eagerly.

\--

Catra wakes to Adora snuggling into her stomach, humming softly to herself. Catra is kind of exhausted after five rounds, but Adora was determined to take care of her. For the last round Catra was draped over her, face down in her tits and purring as she brought Adora over with steady fingers.

“Go back to sleep,” Catra murmurs to her girlfriend. Melog is in the bed with them, she registers vaguely, so it must be late enough in the morning for them to have woken up on they own and have come to join them, but Catra is far from _done_ sleeping. Adora makes a noise of protest and burrow her head in Catra’s stomach. “You need to rest to recover your magic,” Catra argues, grasping at straws with her sleep-addled mind.

She wants to sleep. She also wants to forever exist in this liminal space between rest and wakefulness where her girlfriend is snuggling into her. Adora hums into her fur, wiggling so she can slide up and pepper Catra’s shoulders and neck with kisses.

“I think I proved my stamina is back last night,” Adora leers. Catra snorts and rolls her eyes, shoving lightly at Adora even as she tilts her head back to give Adora better access. Adora kisses her way up her neck and then along her jaw before finally properly meeting her.

Alright, maybe Catra is awake now, but that still doesn’t mean she wants to _get up_. She purrs into the kiss, licking into Adora’s mouth languidly as she wraps her arms around her girlfriend’s shoulders, reveling in the soft groan Adora releases into the kiss. Melog is kind of annoyed by them waking up and immediately making out, but they should just count themselves lucky that Catra has no plans for _round six_.

Adora pulls back a little to grin at her, nudging their foreheads together and then pressing a kiss to the base of her ear.

“Breakfast?” she questions, nuzzling into Catra’s hair now. Catra lets out a soft noise of acknowledgement, but she really doesn’t want to get up yet. She shakes her head.

“In a minute. I’m not done with my good morning kisses yet,” she returns. A grin breaks out across Adora’s face as she leans in _happily_ to meet the request.

\--

“So this is why you were fighting the match?” Glimmer questions, a bit incredulously, watching Emily’s shadow slink around the shipping warehouse in a game of _tag_ as Adora, shifted into her wolf form earlier that afternoon, gives chase.

“We didn’t know she was friendly. She was _breaking shit_. And she pitched a fit when we mentioned an exorcist,” Catra points out, despite the fond smile on her face. Entrapta is filming Emily and Adora playing with practical hearts in her eyes. Darla hasn’t manifested her orb, but Catra can feel her general vibe near Entrapta. It is where she usually is.

“That sounds exactly like how you would behave as a ghost,” Glimmer says. Catra immediately elbows her, but she smiles to herself as she does so. She can admit to herself that _yes_ , it does, but she wouldn’t give Glimmer the satisfaction out loud.

“How’s your dad doing?” Catra asks, biting her lip to stop from making a sound when Adora corners Emily and happily drops into a play bow, eager to be chased. Her girlfriend is fucking _adorable_.

“He’s taken Lonnie under his wing. They’re figuring out lichhood together. Castaspella might end up with a secondary confirmation in necromancy at the rate she is researching to find anything that might help him figure it out, but it’s going well. It’s- great to have him around,” Glimmer admits, her voice trailing off quietly with the final admission. Catra nods, giving Glimmer the dignity of not looking at her in the moment of weakness, keeping her gaze locked on Adora.

“On the phone, you said the blood lead panned out,” she prompts, changing the subject. Catra was already visiting Entrapta and invited Glimmer over immediately when she heard that she had news on Hordak. Glimmer nods beside her.

“He was using an underground supplier that had been on the authorities’ radar for a while, but they hadn’t shut down yet since all the blood seemed to be donated willingly. The point is to keep it off coven books, I guess. They grabbed him when he came in for a resupply. They were able to find where he was laying low, too. There were… almost a dozen fighters there. They all started decomposing the moment Shadow Weaver lost her power source,” Glimmer says, regretfully. Catra cringes, nodding and keeping her gaze fixed forward.

She wants to ask names, but she doubts Glimmer knows them, and they wouldn’t help her sleep at night anyway. It has been nearly a week since they took Shadow Weaver down – those bodies are beyond Adora’s help now. A lich needs a body in living condition, usually only becoming deceased as part of the transformation ceremony. The image of Hordak fucking _roosting_ in some rundown apartment, surrounded by dead and decomposing bodies, nearly makes Catra gag, but she forces it down.

“They’ll get proper burials?” she asks, watching Emily catch Adora in no time and flitting away after making her tag. Glimmer nods in her periphery.

“Their families will be found, if they exist, but the coven will do a ritual to free their spirits just in case. They will know peace,” she assures. Catra lets out a long, slow breath, letting those words wash over her.

“Catra? You should know peace too,” Glimmer adds, softly. That will be harder, but maybe Catra can start to believe she is on her way.

\--

“ _No_ ,” Catra hisses in Melog’s direction. Adora raises an amused eyebrow as Catra stares down empty air, but after a moment Melog gives up on pulling them to the fishery section of the farmer’s market. Catra knows better than to approach that siren song – she will never leave it once she enters. Melog pads back to their side as Catra and Adora continue on, their hands intertwined.

They don’t really have a purpose for being here, they just _are_. Scorpia had a flier for it up on the community notice board in her tea shop, and Adora spotted it when she got off her shift there yesterday. It seemed a fun enough way to spend a Saturday afternoon. Catra doesn’t have work for a few more hours, and Adora has the weekend off, her schedule more variable than Catra’s.

“Look, they have flowers over there,” Adora points out. Catra follows Adora’s point and immediately shakes her head upon spotting the nymph running the booth.

“I am not talking to Scorpia’s girlfriend when she isn’t around. She’ll start gushing about us becoming friends and propose double dates again. I can only take so much distilled optimism at once,” Catra rebukes, darting behind Adora’s back to walk on her other side so Adora’s bulk can shield her from Perfuma’s cone of vision. Adora snorts, sending her a fond but exasperated look.

“I want to get you flowers,” she returns. Catra makes a noise of disgust and is _very grateful_ Melog is invisible right now. Adora is in her human form and could easily see that Melog’s mane apparently turns _pink_ when she says shit like that.

“You’re too gay for your own good,” Catra returns. Adora breaks into a grin, wide and mischievous.

“Too gay for _your_ good. Now come on, I want to get you an entire rose bush,” Adora tells her, tugging on their intertwined hands to pull Catra towards the booth. Catra shrieks, tugging on her hand in Adora’s grip, but it is hopeless.

“It isn’t romantic if it’s against my will!” she protests even as Adora pulls her along, laughing.

“It is if you actually love it,” Adora throws over her shoulder, grinning. Apparently she doesn’t need Melog to tell her how Catra feels.

\--

“Remember when you asked me where I thought we would be by now, and I said married?” Adora asks her in a department store dressing room. Catra stills, carefully lowering the suit jacket she was holding up to her body to stare Adora down in the mirror.

“Adora, I know you love weddings. I know you love Glimmer, and Bow. But I swear, if you propose to me in a dressing room because we’re trying on formal wear, I will marry you just to _divorce_ you,” Catra hisses to her. Adora turns red and promptly shuts her mouth.

\--

“I’m divorcing you,” Adora declares when she shifts back, glaring down at her cellphone. Catra cackles and presses a kiss to the top of Adora’s head as she scrolls back through the reactions from the group chat.

“We aren’t married yet, and it was cute,” Catra points out. Just because Adora got her shit together for a proper proposal doesn’t mean she can start using Catra’s own threat against her.

“Cute,” Adora echoes, pressing play on the video of Adora, a little addled after _just_ shifting on the full moon, growling at herself in the mirror. Sure, a wolf the size of a horse growling usually couldn’t be called cute, but it is Adora, and it is her _own reflection_ , so Catra just giggles and kisses her temple.

“Wait until you see what Glimmer had to say about it. I’m pretty sure she is going to play it at the reception just to give it the exposure it deserves,” Catra returns. Adora groans and puts down her phone, apparently done seeing people gently mock her.

Too bad she lives with Catra. There is no escaping it.

\--

Sometimes Catra wakes from a nightmare, someone else’s blood dripping from her claws, or lifeless and dying herself, or just alone in a bed meant for two. Sometimes Adora shifts without meaning to, stuck for hours at a time in a form she still needs to spend months or even _years_ mastering. No matter what happens to them, what challenge crosses their doorstep now, it is _their_ doorstep. They have each other, sharing the weight, the difficulties, but most importantly the _joy_ of being together again after so long.

Sure, Melog would like it if they expressed that joy a little more quietly, but Catra thinks they can hardly be blamed considering what they have been through. She wakes up every morning in Adora’s arms, and it is a _revelation_ , love in her chest and her heart beating too fast when Adora stirs to nudge into her and mumble to go back to sleep.

Catra lets her eyes slip closed and drifts back off, content that when she wakes again, Adora will still be there, eager to show her love and be loved in turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who came on this journey with me. The fic notes [can be found here](https://n7punk.tumblr.com/post/642409984762740736/strange-disease-fic-notes), and I will be posting more meta/behind-the-scenes info in the coming days.  
> In three days I will be starting ‘the Greys’, my Area 51 Catradora AU, which I will be updating twice a week just like I did this fic. I post about my fics before and while I write them (and p much exclusively about She-ra), so consider giving [my Tumblr](https://n7punk.tumblr.com/) a follow if you’re interested in more of my writing!


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